


Fine (Written All Over You)

by MiaCooper, traccigaryn



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Consent, F/M, Prompt Fic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/traccigaryn/pseuds/traccigaryn
Summary: Kathryn Janeway has left a big city career and a longstanding, tumultuous relationship to manage the Paris family library in sleepy Maplebrook, NY. Chakotay is a part-time history professor, part-time novelist who's struggling to write his latest book. When he turns up at the library to research its renowned Mayan collection for his novel, the last thing he expects is to discover a fascinating new object of study: Kathryn Janeway.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 251
Kudos: 187
Collections: modern-set AU prompt fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariella884](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariella884/gifts).



> For ariella884, who wanted a library AU. We both wanted to write one, so we wrote this together.

_“A guy is going to stop by on Monday morning to do some research.”_

Kathryn stared down at the note in her hand in bemusement, willing additional meaning into its sparse details. Tom was many things, but good at taking phone messages was not one of them. 

“Don’t you remember anything else?” she’d asked him. “What time he’s coming? What kind of research he wants to do?” But Tom had just given her that look of his, the one that said she needed to lighten up a little. 

So she’d had the library open promptly at eight a.m. just in case this guy was the sort who liked to do research at obscure private libraries first thing on Monday mornings. He wasn’t, apparently, since that was several hours ago now. She shrugged and put the note down on her desk again. She’d puttered around her office as much as she could, answering emails and paying invoices, but she wanted to get back to that shift in the exobiology section. Once that was taken care of, she could finally bring the Wildman acquisitions out of storage and save herself the trouble of having to haul them out any time someone wanted to look at them.

This researcher, whoever he was, would just have to make himself known once he finally arrived.

Kathryn climbed the narrow circular staircase up to the second floor stacks. She wouldn’t have a direct view of the door once she got started, but she could nip back out to the balcony if she heard anything. She slid off her heels. Not for the first time, she privately acknowledged that moving books in her stockinged feet, pencil skirt, and silk blouse was not the best sartorial choice. Dressing up for work at all was probably unnecessary, as visitors were infrequent and by appointment only. She spent much of her time moving dusty books and artefacts and trying to make sense of 150 years of odd cataloging and storage choices. But dressing up centered her. It made her feel like she still had a career, and that she wasn’t holed up alone in this little library in upstate New York, far away from her former life. 

Although she wasn’t entirely alone these days. After getting one too many tickets for speeding and reckless driving, Tom had been sent to languish in small town America as his punishment. Kathryn had learned long ago that what Owen Paris said should be interpreted as a command. So her employer’s son, whom she’d known since he was a teenager, was assisting her this summer. She had to admit she liked the company, and she liked Tom, too, sometimes despite himself. 

“Hello?” Kathryn had just lifted several large volumes above her head when she was startled by a soft voice from down below. “Is anybody here?” 

She took a quick step back so she wouldn’t overbalance and placed the books back on their original shelf, then hurried out to the edge of the balcony and looked down. A man stood in the center of the room, silhouetted and partially obscured by the morning sunlight streaming in. 

“Hi, welcome,” she said as she stepped back into her heels. “Give me one second, and I’ll be right down.”

“Take your time.” The man’s voice floated up to meet her as she descended the stairs. The rich tone held a note of appreciation.

“You must be the researcher who called,” she said as she stepped off the staircase and toward him. The sun was no longer in her eyes, and she could see him clearly for the first time. He was dressed like a lot of trendy academics: jeans, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled above his elbows, a loosely knotted tie. His skin was a deep bronze. He had a sharp nose with a kink in it and a bottom lip that was distractingly full. She shifted her eyes up quickly and noted salt-and-pepper hair and a tattoo that arched above his left eyebrow. 

Oh Lord, she was staring. 

But then, so was he.

“Um, sorry I wasn’t downstairs to greet you when you arrived. My … assistant is new and didn’t take a very detailed message. Come back to my office, and we can chat about what you’re here to work on. If it’s something that’s not out in the main collection, it may take me a little time to get it for you.” 

She knew she was babbling, but he was not at all what she’d expected, if she’d thought about it. Shaking her head at herself, Kathryn sat at her desk and gestured for him to take the chair across from her. She pushed aside her empty coffee cup and the book she’d been reading with her morning yogurt.

“ _Crossing the Threshold_ ,” the man said, taking note of her book. “Unusual choice.”

She thought she heard an undercurrent of amusement in his voice, but she’d stopped caring about what other people thought of her reading choices a long time ago. 

“I like the way the author writes,” she said. “Have you read any of his work?”

“I’m familiar with it.” He tugged at his ear. “What do you like about this one?” 

“Well, the evolutionary science is dubious,” Kathryn admitted, “but I can relate to the protagonist’s need to prove himself. Besides, if you can suspend your disbelief it’s a great story — bravery, family, moral choices — and there are some surprisingly funny parts.”

The researcher grinned. “You’d be one of the few who think so, judging by these reviews.” He tapped a broad finger on the back of the dust cover. “The _New York Times_ thinks it’s ‘ _a flight of the author’s fancy that verges on outlandish while remaining oddly compelling_ ’, apparently.”

“Fortunately, I can think for myself,” Kathryn said a little more tartly than she intended, then hurried on, “What can I do for you, Mr. …?”

Instead of taking her up on the opening to offer his name, he laid her book aside and flattened his hands palm-down on the desk between them.

“I’m researching certain aspects of Mayan culture for a project I’m working on,” he told her. “And I’m here because legend has it that the Paris family trust has the most extensive collection of Mayan artefacts and memorabilia in North America.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far, but we certainly have an impressive private archive.” Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back into place. “Unfortunately, not everything is catalogued properly or out in the stacks yet. Why don’t you tell me a little more about what you’re interested in, and we can go from there?”

He nodded. “Sounds good. I want to try to weave together a couple different things, like Mayan ideas about astronomy and what that said about their place in the world. I’m also interested in their tattooing and other body modification practices.”

She couldn’t help but glance up at his own tattoo.

“Yeah, like that,” he said with a little smile. A dimple appeared.

 _Interesting_. 

_No, not interesting. He's here on business_. “I think you came to the right place,” Kathryn said, redirecting her thoughts. “We definitely have some books on astronomy and philosophy you can look at. We also have a pretty extensive collection of hand-drawn star charts and photographs of people. Most of those are in our temperature-controlled storage room. They were starting to degrade, so the last librarian, back in the seventies, had them all reproduced on microfilm. That’s usually what we let researchers look at.”

“That’s great,” he said with excitement. “I was really hoping what I’d heard about the collection was true.”

“The descriptions for the images aren’t very detailed,” Kathryn warned. “We have an old finding aid that might help a little, but it would take you a while to go through all of them one by one. And by a while, I mean days.” 

“That’s fine. I figured I might need to come back more than once. I drove up from the city this morning, and I’ve got a room at Maple Farm, just down the road.”

Kathryn ignored the little flutter of pleasure she felt at hearing he wasn’t leaving again right away. “Where would you like to start?”

“The books, I think,” he said. “Maybe I could borrow a few overnight if they look promising?”

“You seem trustworthy,” she said, and _wow_ , that came out flirty. His smile flashed. “Let me show you the books,” she blurted. “They’re upstairs.”

As she led him across the floor, he asked, “You’re really the first librarian here since the 70s?”

“Yeah. Owen’s parents — he’s the current owner — weren’t interested in the library, so they pretty much just locked it up and ignored it most of their lives. Owen hardly paid any attention to it himself until a couple years ago. He figured out pretty quickly it would require a ton of work, and when I needed — when I came available, it all worked out.”

Kathryn stopped at the bottom of the staircase, conscious of her skirt and heels. Then she remembered the look she’d seen in his eyes earlier, and boldly stepped onto the first stair. He followed at a polite distance, one that would give him a nice view of her legs if he was looking.

“Anyway,” she continued when they’d both reached the top, “there’s a lot of work to do to modernize everything. Sorry it means it’ll take you longer.”

He was standing right behind her, his chest almost brushing her shoulder. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Everything worthwhile takes time, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft and compelling. 

She turned her head and met his gaze. “It does.” She took a breath and gestured at one of the rows of shelves. “The astronomy books start here. I’ll let you get started. If you have any questions, I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Thanks. I appreciate all your help.”

Kathryn nodded. She needed to get away from him and away from those dark eyes, watching her so intently. 

“Sure, of course,” she said. “I’ll, um, be downstairs.” She took the steps quickly and sat back down at her desk with a hurried thump. Work. She had work to do. 

Tom finally returned from running errands an hour later. “Hey, Kitty-Cat,” he called, “sorry I’m late. I bumped into an old girlfriend, and …” he shrugged. “You know how it is.”

There was lipstick smeared across his cheek. Kathryn suppressed a sigh. “Forget it, Tom. Can you start processing the Ashmore donations while I grab a coffee?”

“Sure. In fact, why don’t you take a ten minute break?” he suggested magnanimously. “I can hold down the fort while you’re slacking.”

Rolling her eyes, Kathryn went into the tiny back office to pour a cup from the coffee pot. When she returned, Tom was humming to himself while affixing bookplates, and she could just make out the broad, white-shirted back of their visiting researcher up on the shadowy second floor, so she figured — why not? — she’d take Tom at his word and sit down for a break.

Her coffee was cooling beside her, and she was deeply engrossed in _Crossing the Threshold_ when a shadow fell across the page. She looked up to find the researcher standing on the other side of the counter. He was half-smiling, and his arms were full of books.

“Hi,” she said, hastily closing her novel and scrambling to her feet.

He seemed taller than he had before. Or was she shorter? As unobtrusively as she could, Kathryn slid her feet back into her heeled shoes.

The researcher’s smile widened. Kathryn tried not to notice the dimples.

“Did you want to borrow those?” She indicated the books with a tilt of her head.

“Please,” he said. “Do you need me to fill out some paperwork?”

“We don’t have an electronic check out system yet, so you can just sign them out in the register,” she answered, ducking beneath the counter to retrieve it. She hunted for a pen. “And I’ll need your name and contact information, please.”

“Hey, Kitty,” Tom interrupted, “mind if I knock off early tonight? Hot date,” he explained, grinning widely.

Kathryn waved him away. “Fine, Tom. Go. I’m sorry,” she turned back to the researcher, “what did you say your name was?”

To her surprise, he looked sheepish. He cleared his throat and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Chakotay,” he repeated. “My name is Chakotay.”

Kathryn couldn’t help glancing at the author’s name, emblazoned across the cover of the novel she’d laid hastily aside. “Very funny,” she said.

He shuffled his feet. “I’m not being funny,” he confessed. “That’s really my name. And, uh, that’s my book you’re reading.”

She felt her face heating up. Some librarian she was, not recognizing the man who’d written the book she’d been so absorbed in that she’d snatched every spare moment to read it these past few days! Her mind raced frantically, trying to recall what she’d said about it earlier. It had been mostly complimentary, right? 

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Chakotay laughed. “I think yours was the best review I got on that book. Thank you.” He ducked his head. “Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I was just surprised.”

Kathryn lifted her chin, brazening it out. “I hope you like surprises.”

“Very much so.” He glanced up, and a wide grin had stretched across his face. That smile was dangerous. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’ll let you know if I think the payoff matches the potential.”

Was that really her voice, low and purring? And had she really just tilted her hip in such a way as to draw his gaze?

It seemed she had. His tone matched hers as he said, “I look forward to it.”

The moment hung in the air. 

“I’ll return these in a day or two,” Chakotay said then, dipping his chin to indicate his armful of books. “See you then, Kitty. And thanks for your help.”

The door was swinging shut behind him before she could open her mouth to tell him her name wasn’t and never would be _Kitty_.

* * *

The sky had turned leaden, and Chakotay hurried to load the precious volumes onto the passenger seat of his car before the threatening rain could spoil them. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint the intriguing and attractive librarian he’d just met.

Kitty. He shook his head. The name didn’t suit her; there was nothing prissy or schoolmarmish about the woman who’d slipped off her shoes and lost herself in a book — _his_ book — or who’d skipped up the stairs ahead of him, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of long, silky legs. He wondered if she’d been wearing practical panty hose or the stockings and garters his imagination insisted on.

And he really shouldn’t be imagining what some stranger was wearing under her skirt, no matter how attractive she was.

But he couldn’t help the smile that stayed on his lips as he drove the short distance to his bed and breakfast.

“Ah, Professor!” the proprietor called after him as Chakotay balanced his armful of books and began to climb the staircase. “Can I help you with those, sir?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” Chakotay kept going. He had only met him that morning, but he’d already figured out that the garrulous, ginger-whiskered man — Neil something, he tried to recall — would talk his ear numb if he let him.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Neil called up the stairs after him. “You need a local guide? I’ll be your guide. You need supplies? I know where to find the freshest food. You need —”

“Thank you, Mr., uh,” Chakotay interrupted him hastily from the second floor landing. “I think I can find my way around town.”

“Understood, sir,” Neil said cheerfully, and Chakotay pushed his way into his room, shutting the door firmly.

He’d unpacked haphazardly when he checked in earlier, and only the essentials: shaving gear, laptop, a few shirts he’d hung up in the little closet. Now, he took the time to fold his jeans into the drawers and stow his bag neatly under the bed before opening the lid on his laptop.

Then he stared at the flashing cursor on the screen until his eyes started to blur, and he had to blink away the strain.

“Damn it,” Chakotay muttered. “Just write, you idiot. How hard can it be?”

He was under a lot of pressure with this book, and it wasn’t making the writing part go any easier. His first novel, _On Sacred Ground_ , had netted him great reviews, moderate sales and a five-book contract with Federation Publishing, all of which he was grateful for, and much of it had been thanks to his agent, B’Elanna Torres. The trouble had started with his second book — the one Kitty the librarian had been so surprisingly kind about — which hadn’t _flopped_ , exactly, but certainly hadn’t covered him in glory. He’d been on shaky ground with Federation since _Threshold_ and its follow up, the amnesia romance _Unforgetting_. He had redeemed himself somewhat with the relative commercial and critical success of his fourth, _The Scorpion’s Tale_ , but he’d had to argue hard to convince his publisher that this new novel-in-progress would work. 

In fact, B’Elanna had done most of the convincing — though Chakotay privately termed it ‘threatening’ — but in exchange, Federation wanted to push him in a direction Chakotay really didn’t want to go. It meant going on the publicity circuit. It meant daytime talk shows and press interviews and hours’ worth of book signings in commercial bookstores, and it promised to interfere not only with his teaching schedule but also with the research he needed to do, if book number five was to bring the kind of success his publisher was demanding.

And after the underhanded deal Federation had pulled last year, Chakotay was ready to walk away from his publishing contract. It was only B’Elanna’s warnings about the damage it would cause to his reputation, not to mention the crippling debt he’d be left with for breaching the contract, that gave him pause.

He was left with no real choice but to give Federation what they were demanding: a bestseller. It was unfortunate that, despite his claims, he was less than confident that he could deliver one.

“No pressure,” he muttered aloud, tipping his head back to glare at the ceiling in hope of inspiration. But the ceiling was uncooperative, and with a sigh, Chakotay pushed back his chair and stuffed his wallet and keys in his jeans pockets. Maybe a walk would clear his head.

Outside, a broad road sloped gently in the direction of the town. Narrowing his eyes, Chakotay could make out the clean white peak of the Methodist church, and beside it, the elegant sprawl of the estate that housed the Paris library. 

He found his steps turning in that direction, and his thoughts turning to the chestnut-haired librarian. A light breeze ruffled the trees and kept the sun from growing too warm on his back, and by the time Chakotay reached the center of the village, he realized he was smiling.

On the street corner he was approaching sat a coffee shop he’d noticed on his earlier drive through the town. The starry spray of lights in the window had captured his attention, and as he peered inside now he could make out a colorful starscape painted on the main interior wall. He stepped back to read the shop name on the door — Nebula Coffee — just as it opened to expel a customer, and the aroma of freshly ground beans beckoned him inside.

“Hello,” a solemn man with deep umber skin greeted him from behind the counter. “How may I help you?”

The cafe was pretty crowded for this late in the afternoon. Chakotay glanced around and spotted a small table by the main window. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Of course. May I offer you refreshments?”

The proprietor was so stiff and formal, Chakotay reflected with amusement, that he sounded almost alien. His elongated ears certainly looked otherworldly.

“Sure,” he answered, hiding a smile. “I’d love a coffee.”

The waiter had just brought his coffee, in a silver metal cup that looked suitably space-age, when Chakotay’s cell phone lit up. He spared a moment to wish B’Elanna would just call him instead of insisting on FaceTiming before he picked up.

“Where the hell are you now?” his agent demanded, squinting at his surroundings. “And why aren’t you writing?”

“I’m in a coffee shop. And I’m procrastinating.”

“Clearly. Chakotay, we need to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“That depends. Federation wants to sell the subsidiary rights to _Scorpion_.”

He was silent for a moment, possibilities tumbling through his brain. “I take it they’ve had an offer.”

“Yeah. A Swedish production house called Borg Collective. Their rep, Annika Hansen, wants to meet with you next week in Stockholm.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Chakotay admitted. “If they want to talk to me, maybe they care about maintaining creative integrity.”

“I researched them,” B’Elanna replied. “They insist on full creative control, and their contract is airtight. You sign with them and you can kiss your individual rights goodbye.”

“Then my answer is no.”

“I figured you’d say that,” she sighed. “And so did Federation. They have an alternative offer for you.”

“Go on,” Chakotay said warily.

“You need to do publicity.” B’Elanna held up a hand as he started to protest. “They want your face out there. Smiling. Apparently, women spend money when you smile.”

“Very funny.” Chakotay rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Can’t I just do a couple of lectures and a coffee night or two?”

“In your dreams.” She hesitated. “There’s more.”

“Of course there is.”

“You remember that outline you pitched, way back when Federation was first thinking about signing you? The time travel drama — what did you call it? _Game of Ends_?” She waited for his acknowledging frown, then went on, “They think it has legs — it’s flashy and exciting, and there’s potential for a movie adaptation. They want you to ditch the Mayan thing and write that instead.”

Chakotay could feel his teeth grinding. “No way.”

“Chakotay …” B’Elanna leaned in so that her face filled the entire screen. “We’ve always been honest with each other, so believe me when I tell you this: unless you want to get sued broke, those are your choices.”

“Some choice,” he said bitterly. “Take a deal that makes me sick to my stomach or get assimilated into the money machine.”

“Listen, it’s not all bad — you could also get rich and famous. But you need to pick your battles. You give them too much trouble, and they’ll leave you out in the dead zone.”

“You’re telling me not to fight this? I never thought I’d hear you talk that way, B’Elanna. What happened to the girl who was always marching for some bleeding heart cause?”

He read the flash of hurt in B’Elanna’s eyes.

“She’s still here, Chakotay,” she retorted. “And she’s trying to save your ass. Think about it, okay? I’ll call you in a day or two.”

She disconnected without saying goodbye, and Chakotay tossed his phone onto the table, his mood soured and his coffee cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathryn walked slowly around the library, flicking on each of the light switches as she came to them. This was her morning routine, a chance to survey the little world that had become her own. She’d never had to turn on the lights of her library in the city or unlock the doors. There had always been security guards and staff for that, dedicated people who made sure the facility was available for visitors and librarians alike. She could simply stroll in at the start of the day, extra large coffee cup in hand, and get straight to work. It had been years since she’d really used a book for research, and even longer since she’d had to think about how they were catalogued. 

Now she did everything. Purchased. Shifted. Weeded. Catalogued. Hell, she took out the trash and dusted too. It was intensely satisfying in a way she would never have believed six months ago.

Six months ago, she had been running the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, New York Public Library’s most famous branch. Before that, she’d risen through the ranks at NYPL’s Science, Business and Industry Library. She had a career she was proud of, a staff who would do anything for her, and a partner who had excited, challenged, and adored her.

Whom she’d thought had adored her. 

Kathryn had met Justin at Columbia. He was like her: driven, intelligent, fiercely competitive. They’d fought and loved with equal vigor, the sex great and the make-up sex even better. But something had shifted in the last few years. A sour note had entered their relationship, almost like Justin didn’t take her work seriously or was jealous of her success. Maybe both at the same time. He’d denied it, of course, but after one too many of their increasingly fierce arguments, Kathryn had finally had enough. She’d impulsively called Owen Paris, her old dissertation advisor, and asked if that job restoring his family’s moldering old library was still available. Fortunately, her associate director at NYPL had been more than capable of stepping in to take her place, and she’d moved out of the apartment she shared with Justin and upstate to picturesque Maplebrook almost before she knew what she’d done. 

Owen had been pestering her to take over the family library for years. Ironic, since he’d been horrified when he learned she was planning to become a science librarian after she finished her Ph.D. instead of a scientist.

“A librarian, Katie?” he’d scoffed. “You’ll be wasting your brain. Go to the library if you want, but you need to be the one doing the research yourself. Pushing the boundaries of science.”

“Who do you think makes sure the resources are available to research?” she’d bit back. “Libraries don’t run on magic, Owen. They’re run by people who advocate and push for attention and funding and who care as much about advancing knowledge as you do. So please, shut up and sign my recommendation letter for library school.” 

To be fair, the Paris family library was not just some shelves of old books. As one of the great families of the East Coast, there had been Parises on the Mayflower, at Gettysburg, in Washington. The Maplebrook family estate had been built in 1804 and expanded several times over the years. The library wing was built in the 1870s by Matthew Paris. His parents had become Methodists during the Second Great Awakening and funnelled large portions of the family fortune into missionary work to Central and South America after the Disappointment. 

Matthew’s life work had been to preserve all that his parents had brought home with them. The library was one vast room, with two stories of books lining all four walls and tall, old-fashioned rolling ladders to access the upper shelves, separated by stained glass windows depicting scenes of religion and science. On one end, ranges of shelves, a staircase, and a balcony had been added, doubling the library’s capacity. Display cases were scattered about, highlighting artefacts from various cultures. From that beginning, the library had expanded, diversified, and eventually, been forgotten.

Kathryn’s task was to make some sense of it all. To organize what was there, get rid of what had no value, and, whenever possible, to figure out what could be returned home where it belonged. She’d made good progress in the past few months. She even started to solidify ideas for ways to transform the collection into a private research library, museum, and educational center. Somewhat to her surprise, she was invigorated by the challenge and enraptured by Maplebrook and the library itself. She wasn’t missing her old job nearly as much as she’d feared she would.

It had all been going so well, right up until Justin had called again this morning, reminding her about the paperwork that needed to be done for the apartment. 

He’d been calling on and off since she left, by turns cajoling and ordering her to come back home. There were days when she thought about it. She missed him. She missed the city. 

And if he’d called even one day sooner, she might have been more excited to hear from him. But yesterday she had met Chakotay. 

Before she could follow that line of thought any further, a cup of coffee was plonked down onto the counter in front of her.

“Hey Katie Cakes, I’ve got your fix,” Tom said.

She hadn’t heard Tom return home after his date last night, and he was an hour late this morning, but he knew exactly how to worm his way back into her good graces. She’d had her standard two cups of coffee while getting ready this morning, but it was well past ten a.m. — almost time for another cup. She normally settled for the mediocre brew from the machine in the office, but Tom had brought the good stuff, a pour over from Nebula Coffee downtown. 

As she took her first grateful sip, Tom poked a finger at the copy of _Crossing the Threshold_ she’d brought with her for later.

“Can I read that book after you’re done?”

She looked up quickly. Had he overheard Chakotay reveal his identity yesterday?

“What? I read … sometimes,” he said defensively. “It just takes me longer, so all the book worms in my family decided I was a failure or something. Not living up to the Paris legacy and all that.”

He’d mistaken her surprise for skepticism. Kathryn kept her voice carefully neutral. “That’s only because you’re dyslexic, though, right?”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Yeah, how did — yeah.”

“I had a hunch. Tom, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. It affects a lot of people. But not having your family’s support must have made it especially hard to learn to manage.”

The look on his face nearly undid her, a mix of disbelief and gratitude that revealed how deeply he’d been hurt by his parents’ lack of understanding. 

“I just assumed you wanted to read Chakotay’s book since he visited us yesterday,” she said to give him a chance to regroup.

“Wait, really? That guy was the author? That’s awesome,” Tom enthused. “Now I definitely have to read it. I mean, I took a peek at where you’d left off yesterday and I saw that the guy’s tongue falls out and I figured that had to be a quality book right there, but really? That was him?” 

His fervor finally petered out. Then a gleam entered his eye. “I don’t know, Katie Keen. Are you really gonna fall for a guy who writes about people’s tongues falling out?”

“What?” It was Kathryn’s turn to be left flat-footed by the pivot in the conversation. 

Tom’s head tilted to a decidedly sarcastic angle. “I may be dyslexic, but even I could read the sexual tension in the air yesterday.” 

“No, that’s not … we just met.” Kathryn’s valiant attempt at speech failed.

Tom leaned his body against the counter, glee radiating from every word. “Who cares if you just met? Sometimes you just click, and damn, you two were clicking all over the place. I nearly popped a bag of popcorn.” 

Kathryn could feel the blush creeping up her chest and into her cheeks. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “He was nice, wasn’t he?”

“Nice and built. Nice and rocking a facial tattoo. Nice and obviously a super nerd like you. Nice and —”

“Fine, fine, he was all of those things,” she admitted, and she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “He’s going to come back today or tomorrow to do some more research.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be totally focused on the research,” Tom said. “But seriously, Kathryn, if you think there might be something there, go for it. You haven’t been yourself since …”

_Since Justin._ She touched his arm. “Thanks, Tom. I know I haven’t. But that will all be over soon.”

“Will it?”

She couldn’t blame him for doubting. Kathryn didn’t confide in him, but Tom was perceptive. He’d noticed her pinched face and the dark shadows under her eyes in the first few months after she’d moved to Maplebrook. He’d probably overheard a few of the hushed arguments she’d had with Justin over the phone too.

“Yeah,” she assured Tom now, squeezing his arm. “I think it will.”

“Because of Chakotay?”

“No, not because of him. Or, not directly. I barely know the guy. But meeting him, talking with him, reminded me of how much had been missing from my relationship with Justin for a long time. Chakotay might not be the one, but I know Justin isn’t anymore either.”

“Good for you,” Tom said and pulled her in for a quick hug. “That guy’s an asshat.”

She laughed into his shirt.

“I’m serious. I was all set to marry you myself when I was sixteen, and he stole you away. I’ve never forgiven him for that.” 

Kathryn kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Any time, Kit-Kat.”

As she pulled away, she caught a glimpse of the clock. “Crap! I have to go. I’m catching the 11:14 train into the city.” At his inquisitive look, she added, “I have to sign some paperwork for the apartment sale.” She started toward her office. “Can you call me a ride while I get my stuff together?”

“A ride?”

“To the train station. I don’t have a car, and your license is suspended.” She grabbed her bag from beside her desk. 

“Oh, right.”

“I can take you to the station.” A quiet voice cut into their conversation. Kathryn’s head whipped around.

Sometime during her heart-to-heart with Tom, Chakotay had entered the library.

How long had he been standing there? And what had he heard?

“I just got here,” he explained, as though he’d read her thoughts.

“Oh,” she said, relieved, then, “I wouldn’t want to put you out —”

“— Perfect!” Tom interrupted. “Thanks, Chakotay.”

"It’s no trouble.”

“Thanks, Chakotay,” she echoed in pleasure.

“Happy to help,” Chakotay said, and moved aside to allow her to step from behind the counter. His hand came up and rested lightly on her lower back. She could feel its heat radiating through the silk.

“Do you have an umbrella in case it rains?” Tom called after her. “Go-cup? Sneakers for the subway?” As they exited the front door, she heard, “Condoms?”

She was going to kill him one day. She really was.

“So, your assistant.” There was definite amusement in Chakotay’s voice as he opened the door of his Jeep for Kathryn.

“Don’t mind Tom,” she advised, climbing into the seat. “I’ve been ignoring him since he was a teenager.”

“How’s that working out?”

“Not too well,” she laughed.

Chakotay was still grinning as he shut her door for her.

“So you’re heading into the city for the afternoon?” he asked when they’d been driving in silence for a minute or two. “Shopping trip?”

“I hate shopping. No, I have some, ah, personal business to take care of.”

“Oh.” He shut up.

_Great_ , Kathryn thought, _now he probably thinks I’m going to the gyno_. Not exactly the impression she wanted to leave him with.

“It’s just a legal matter,” she blurted.

“Okay.” Chakotay shot her a sideward glance.

“I mean, I’m not in trouble with the law or anything.” God, she was making it worse. “I’m selling my apartment. Well, my boyfriend and I are.”

Chakotay said nothing.

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend. It’s complicated.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and Kathryn wanted to die. “I mean the _sale_ is complicated. It’s in a co-op. I’m selling my shares to my ex and his cousin so she can eventually buy him out, and the board has to approve it and …”

He ducked his head, and she saw a smile pull at the corners of his lips.

“So it’s a flying visit,” she finished somewhat lamely. “To be honest I’d rather be here. I have a lot of work to do, and the train takes so long ...”

“I could drive you.” He looked almost as surprised at his own words as she felt. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Her response was instinctive and out of her mouth before she’d really processed his offer. 

He peeked over at her quickly, then back at the road. “I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “You barely know me. It was weird to offer.”

“No, it’s … not weird, actually,” and she was startled to realize she was speaking truthfully. “But it’s a two hour drive each way, and I don’t know how long I’ll be with the lawyers ... It’ll take up your whole day.”

“I don’t mind. I like driving, and I needed to call my agent this afternoon anyway. I could stop by her office instead. And it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.” He paused for a rueful grin. “I’ll stop talking now.”

Kathryn studied his profile for a long moment. He was as nervous as she was, and she got the impression that this — their attraction, their connection — happened to him as rarely as it happened to her. Everything about this man intrigued her. His self-possession and his off-beat humor, the mind of a scholar and the body of a quarterback. She wanted to get to know him better too.

“Okay,” she said.

* * *

Despite the desire they’d both expressed for conversation, they lapsed into silence almost immediately. Kathryn found her eyes straying to Chakotay’s hands as he shifted gears, as they moved to rest on the steering wheel. Strong, broad, capable hands. When she caught herself daydreaming about those hands sliding warmly over her shoulders, deftly unbuttoning her blouse, she forced her gaze and her thoughts to the view from her window instead.

She tried not to jump guiltily when Chakotay spoke. “So, how long have you lived in Maplebrook?”

“Almost six months now. I used to run the main branch for NYPL. I’m sure you know it?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’m impressed. That’s a big deal.”

“I guess so.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what made you give up a job like that to take on a private collection in the middle of nowhere?”

Kathryn hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” Chakotay said quickly, with a sideward glance at her. “That was intrusive.”

“No, it’s okay. I … needed to make some changes in my life. It was either take Owen Paris up on his offer or sell everything I owned and take off on a grand adventure.”

“Travel isn’t your thing?”

“I love it,” she confessed. “But I think if I’d decided to travel, I’d have ended up getting lost somewhere, never to return. My father used to call me a born explorer.”

“That’s a lot nicer than what my father used to call me.”

“Oh?” Kathryn turned to him, interested.

Chakotay tugged at his ear, looking like he was regretting his words. “‘Contrary’ was one of the kinder things. We didn’t really get along when I was younger.”

“And now?”

He cleared his throat. “He died a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Impulsively she reached out a hand and rested it on his knee, squeezing gently.

His voice sounded a little strained when he answered her. “So am I.”

She felt the muscles of his thigh tense under her palm, and realized her hand was still on his leg. Hastily, she pulled it back to her lap.

“My father died when I was twenty-four,” she said, trying to cover her discomfort. “I still miss him.”

“Sounds like you were close.”

“He inspired me,” she said simply.

“So did mine,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much he’d influenced me until after he died. We never really reconciled. I’ll always regret that, but I’m trying to make up for it now.”

“How so?”

“The book I’m writing,” he explained. “Well, trying to write. My father was always fascinated by our tribal history. I used to roll my eyes at him when he talked about tradition and spirituality.”

“That’s what your book is about?”

“In a way.” He hesitated, glancing at her quickly then back to the road. “My father liked to claim that, many centuries ago, our ancestors were visited by sky spirits — people from another planet — who lived with the tribe for a time and taught them about the stars and life on other worlds. Of course, I thought he was crazy or making it up. Except …”

“Except what?” Kathryn half-turned in her seat to listen to him.

“At the risk of sounding like a conspiracy nut … there could be elements of truth to his theory. The Mayans — my ancestors — were technologically advanced beyond all explanation. They were fascinated by astronomy and connected it to spiritually. Who’s to say they didn’t learn a few things from alien visitors?”

Despite herself, Kathryn gave him a deeply skeptical glance.

Chakotay caught her expression and laughed. “I know — I sound as crazy as my father. He also believed the sky spirits gave our ancestors a mark that many of our tribe have worn ever since.” He touched a finger to the tattoo on his left temple. “A year or so after my father died, I began to regret that we’d never reconciled. I decided to visit the part of the Central American rainforest where my father said our tribe had originated. He’d taken me there when I was a teenager, and I hated every minute of it. I figured retracing our steps would be my way of honoring him and everything he believed, but it didn’t feel like enough. So I took his mark, too. Had it done the traditional way too, by hand poking.”

“Was it painful?”

“As hell,” he laughed. “But I think that was down to the location of it rather than the method. Machine tattooing hurts like a bitch when it’s right over the bone too.”

“You have more tattoos?”

The grin he gave her in reply was slow and dirty, and it made her blush.

“Tell me more about your book,” she said hastily.

“I guess you’d call it historical science fiction, mixed in with a bit of adventure and a dash of romance.” Chakotay’s eyes were back on the road. “The plot hook might be way out there, but it’s important to me that I get the tribal customs right. The last thing I want is to disrespect my father and my ancestors. Or to come off looking like a crackpot.”

“Hence your research.”

“Right. Of course, my publisher only cares that I sell copy.”

“Well, I can guarantee that the Paris Library will buy a copy when you publish it.”

And there she went again with that flirty tone. Kathryn bit her lower lip and cast him a sideways glance, secretly pleased to see that Chakotay was tugging his ear again. And there was a growl in his voice when he answered her. “That’s very kind of you to say, Kitty.”

“ _Kitty_?” she squawked.

He looked nonplussed. “Isn’t that your name? I heard your assistant —”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” she retorted. “Tom likes to give me the most ridiculous and annoying nicknames he can come up with. My name is Kathryn. Kathryn Janeway.”

“Kathryn,” he repeated softly. The way he said it made her spine tingle. “That suits you much better.”

She turned her face to the window to hide the helpless smile she didn’t want him to see.

* * *

Traffic was sluggish through Midtown Manhattan, and Kathryn began to wriggle in her seat and check her wristwatch.

“What time is your appointment?” Chakotay asked her.

“They’re expecting me by about one-thirty,” she answered. “It’s only a block from here. You can let me out on the corner, and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Okay.” Chakotay pulled over into the space just vacated by a cab, and Kathryn gathered her purse and stepped down to the sidewalk. “I’ll pick you up on the next corner around three,” he called, leaning across the seat she’d vacated. “That should get us back on the road before traffic starts to get nasty. If you don’t see me, I’m circling the block.”

“You don’t have to drive me back if it’s inconvenient,” she answered, turning to speak to him through the open door. “I can take the train.”

“It’s not at all inconvenient.” He smiled at her, and she was still not used to the way that smile shot straight through her or the effect it had on her when it did. “You’re doing me a favor — driving is much more fun with someone to talk to.”

“Then I’ll see you here at three.”

She thought she could feel his gaze on her as she turned in the direction of the DQ Building, and put a little extra sway in her hips, knowing that her stiletto heels and pencil skirt would accentuate it even more. Just a little thank you for that parting smile of his. 

Her satisfied smile faded, however, as she entered the lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. As the car rose to the 75th floor, she gripped her purse tighter and straightened her spine. 

Kathryn stepped out into the foyer of the Praylor & Cravic offices and had to swallow an extra breath. There, lounging in the open doorway to the boardroom in an expensive, hand-tailored suit, looking even more handsome than she remembered, was Justin.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she blurted.

“And miss a chance to see you?” He came forward, bending smoothly to kiss her cheek. “The provincial life agrees with you, Kathryn. You look …” he trailed off, his smile slow and dangerous.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Better than ever.”

“Nice save.”

“Mr. Tighe, Ms. Janeway.” A paralegal waved them into the boardroom. “Please — we have quite a bit to cover.”

* * *

“Chakotay, what are you doing here?” B’Elanna reached up on tiptoe to hook an arm around his neck.

He hugged her back. “I missed your face, Lanna, even though you only ever give me bad news.”

“Asshole.” B’Elanna punched his arm, beckoning him into her cluttered, poky office. “Come on in. Ayala, get my friend a coffee, will you?” she called to her assistant, who nodded and loped off.

“Doesn’t that guy have a first name?” Chakotay asked her.

“Who the hell knows?” B’Elanna shrugged. She waved him to a chair. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was in the neighborhood. And I figured it would be easier to talk about this Federation situation face to face.”

Ayala entered silently, slid a steaming mug of coffee onto the desk beside Chakotay and left, closing the door behind him.

“Before we get into that,” B’Elanna flipped a dismissive hand, “tell me how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

She gave him a don’t-bullshit-me stare. “It wasn’t so long ago that you had your face in a bottle of whiskey and couldn’t decide which you hated more — your publisher or your film agent-slash-bitchy ex-girlfriend.” She leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of whom …”

“B’Elanna,” he warned.

“I saw Seska at a party a few weeks back. Still dating that gross guy from Kazon Acquisitions — Cullen or something? I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that her face looks terrible. God only knows what work she’s had done to it.”

“B’Elanna, come on.”

“And she knows she traded down. I could tell she wanted to ask after you.”

“That’s enough.” Chakotay gave her a hard look. “I don’t want to talk about Seska.”

“All I’m saying is, you’re better off without her. Which you know,” B’Elanna finished hastily. “So … anyone new on the scene?”

“Lanna.” Chakotay folded his arms. “Pretend for a minute you’re my agent.”

“Okay, okay.” B’Elanna rested her chin on her hand, looking grim. “Listen, I know you don’t like either of the options they’re giving you, but you’re going to have to choose whichever is the lesser of the two evils. And if you want my advice …”

“I do.”

“... you should take the Borg deal. I think I can swing it so that you write the screen adaptation for _Scorpion_. Maybe even get them to sign a director you’re comfortable working with. I can set up a meet with Annika Hansen next week. You can work the dimples, charm her a little. Then you can do some puff media to keep Federation happy, go back to Sunnybrook and finish writing your book, secure in the knowledge that the checks will keep rolling in.”

“Maplebrook.”

“What? Oh. Right. So, what do you say? Should I call Sweden?”

“Not yet.” Chakotay stared into his coffee for a minute, then met B’Elanna’s eyes. “I have an alternate suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to sell the _Scorpion_ rights to the Borg Collective, and I intend to finish the book I’m writing. As soon as I’ve handed in the first draft, I’ll sign a one-shot contract with Federation for whatever they want. If they want me to write a shitty airport novel or a screenplay for some B-list star vehicle, fine, I’ll do it without complaint. But then I’m done. You find me a new publisher.”

His agent looked at him speculatively for a moment. “Let me see what I can do, okay?”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Now get out of my office.” She smirked. “And next time I see you, I want to hear all about her.”

Chakotay slanted her a look. “Who?”

“Whoever’s put that spring in your step and the gleam in your eye, soldier.”

B’Elanna’s laughter provoked his answering smile as Chakotay left her office, but by the time he got back to where he’d parked, his mood had plummeted. Despite his pitch to B’Elanna, he wasn’t at all happy at the idea of signing up with Federation again, even for a one-shot contract.

But the thought of dealing with Borg gave him a bad feeling he couldn’t conquer, and there was no way he would give up on the book that had brought him to Maplebrook. He owed it to his father to see it through.

And spending time with Kathryn Janeway was a sweetener that didn’t hurt his determination either.

Chakotay started his Jeep and eased out into traffic, already looking forward to the drive home in Kathryn’s company.


	3. Chapter 3

Kathryn was waiting on the corner of 48th and Lex as Chakotay maneuvered the Jeep toward the curb. A breeze had whipped up, shaking strands of hair loose from her French knot and plastering her silk blouse to her body. Distracted, he almost knocked the rear bumper of the car in front as he pulled in.

“Hi,” she said, her smile dimmer than it had been when he’d dropped her off.

He tried not to stare at the way her skirt rucked up around her thighs as she climbed into her seat. Just a little higher, and he’d know the answer to that hose-or-stockings question he couldn’t stop asking himself. “Ready to go?”

“So ready.” She clipped the seat belt on and leaned her head back with a sigh.

“Bad meeting?”

“Difficult,” she said. “You?”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence. Chakotay switched on the radio, flipping past news channels and talk shows until he found a blues station.

“Is this okay?”

“Sure.”

They’d been driving for close to an hour, only speaking occasionally, when Chakotay noticed Kathryn was slumped low in her seat, massaging her temple. He glanced at her quickly; she had her eyes closed and her face looked pale.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He frowned. “Headache?”

“It’s fine.”

Obviously, it wasn’t fine. Chakotay thought back over the past few hours and realized that, while he’d grabbed a pretzel from a street vendor on his way to B’Elanna’s office, Kathryn probably hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. If she’d even had a breakfast that wasn’t only multiple cups of coffee.

The lights of a roadside diner beckoned up ahead, and Chakotay made a decision, pulling into the parking lot. Kathryn opened her eyes and gave him a questioning look.

“I think we could both use something to eat,” he explained.

She opened her mouth to protest then closed it again. “Okay. But it’s my treat.”

He grinned at her as he opened his door and stepped down to the asphalt. “Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t call me —”

He shut his door before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, tucked into a corner booth, the table between them littered with the remnants of the mushroom pizza they’d shared, Kathryn had to admit she was feeling much perkier.

“You were right,” she admitted.

Chakotay ducked his head on a smile. “It happens occasionally. How’s your head?”

‘ _I’ve never had any complaints_ ,’ was on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped the remark just in time. That would’ve been taking the flirting a little too far.

“It’s much better. Thank you.” 

“Want anything else?”

“Coffee,” she said immediately, turning to signal the waitress.

“I’ll have tea,” Chakotay told the server when Kathryn had finished ordering her extra-strong, extra-hot black coffee.

“ _Tea_?” Kathryn asked him when the waitress had gone, mock-rolling her eyes. “Why do I like you?”

“You like me, huh?”

“You’re the nicest person I’ve spoken to today,” she answered without thinking, then reached up to fidget with her necklace, looking anywhere but at him.

He looked pleased when she finally glanced at him, but clearly decided to let it slide. “The lawyers didn’t really do it for you then?”

She shrugged, the light fading from her mood. “It wasn’t the lawyers so much as seeing Justin.”

“Justin?”

“My ex. I didn’t expect him to be there … I thought he’d already signed all the papers he needed to, and that I’d do my part today and that would be the end of it.”

He looked like there were a million questions tumbling over themselves on his tongue and he was thinking better of all of them. Finally he commented, “Getting closure is an important step.”

“We were together for a really long time. I guess it’s hard to close the door on that,” Kathryn shrugged, remembering the way Justin had looked at her — wistful, regretful — and the way he’d said he missed her. Honestly, she’d thought he would be over her by now. He’d never lacked for female attention when they were together, and she was sure a line of women had formed around the block as soon as they’d split up.

“I see,” said Chakotay, his tone neutral.

“What about you?” Kathryn asked him, keeping it airy so he wouldn’t realize how interested she was in his answer. “Any serious relationships in your past?”

“Nothing as long standing as yours,” he replied. “And the last person I was with turned me off dating for a long time.”

“How come?”

Chakotay grimaced. “It’s kind of a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

The waitress reappeared then, and Kathryn waited until she’d set two steaming drinks in front of them before she raised her eyebrows at Chakotay. “I’ve already spilled the sorry details of my love life, such as it is. Of course I want to hear it.”

“All right.” Chakotay tipped a couple of sugar cubes into his tea. “A couple of years ago, I was approached by some independent producers from Maquis Films who wanted to adapt my first book for cinema.’

“ _On Sacred Ground_?” Kathryn interrupted.

“Right. So I watched a couple of their studio’s productions — there was a great documentary about how the Korean DMZ was formed and the people who live within the zone and still get caught up in the border disputes — and I loved the script draft they showed me for _Sacred Ground_. My publisher holds the subsidiary rights to all my books, though, so I went with Dalby and Sveta to pitch it to them. Federation agreed to partly fund their production on the proviso that they retained creative control. Maquis weren’t happy about giving Federation that much power, of course, but they were backed into a corner.”

He paused to sip his tea.

“When I talked to B’Elanna — my literary agent — she said she wasn’t very experienced at negotiating options, and recommended I get a film agent to protect my interests because the legal stuff could get ugly between Maquis and Federation. She introduced me to Seska, who she’d met recently at an industry event.”

Chakotay glanced up; Kathryn couldn’t break their gaze, her coffee cooling neglected beside her. 

“From the second I met her, Seska made it pretty clear she was interested in me as more than just a client. I didn’t want to get into it at first — I was concerned about the protocol of getting involved with someone who worked for me — but Maquis trusted her and Federation didn’t seem to have a problem with it. And she was attractive and fun and very persistent. I was flattered.”

“So you started dating,” Kathryn prompted when he fell silent.

“Yeah. It was great at first. She was the perfect partner — smart, supportive, sexy …”

“Good in bed.”

Chakotay ducked his head, hiding a smile. “Anyway, we signed the film deal and started production, and that’s when we started having problems. She started suggesting changes to the script, wanting to re-cast the main actors, trying to talk Maquis into shooting at different locations … I couldn’t understand why she was so exacting about this stuff, since her part should have been over with as soon as the contracts were signed. I tried to stay out of it, like B’Elanna said I should, but Seska kept dragging me in.” He sighed. “She made it impossible for Dalby and Sveta to do their jobs. And all she wanted to talk about at home was the movie. We started arguing all the time. Eventually, we split up.”

“I’m sorry,” Kathryn said. “What happened to the movie?”

“Maquis pulled out of the deal. It almost bankrupted them, and when I went to my publisher to see if there was any way we could salvage things, Seska was in their office.”

“Why?”

“She was pitching a deal to get _Sacred Ground_ produced by another film studio. A big one, funded by the Kardashians or something. Federation signed the deal.”

“And you were cut out?”

“Completely. I had no control over casting, scripts, director — nothing.” Chakotay scowled. “I’ve been trying to get out of my publishing contract ever since, but it would cost me too much, both professionally and financially.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

“Thanks.” He sent her a quick smile. “It turned me off dating for a long while too.”

“So there’s been nobody since Seska?” she asked tentatively.

“Nobody serious. Most of the people I meet are in the industry.”

“Oh.” Kathryn bit her lip. “I mean, it’s smart not to date people you work with.”

“It can get complicated.”

“Right.”

Kathryn lowered her gaze and hid behind her coffee cup. Chakotay tugged on his ear.

“I guess we should get going before it gets dark,” he said after a short silence. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’m ready.”

He held out a hand to help her up from the booth, and as she followed him outside to the car she found herself rubbing her fingers, which were tingling where they’d touched.

The rest of the ride back to Maplebrook seemed to flash by. Chakotay had asked Kathryn about her tenure at NYPL, and somehow she’d ended up telling him about the time she caught a couple of students making out in the Pforzheimer Collection.

“Is that something that happens a lot?” he’d asked, intrigued.

“More than you’d expect.” She had flashed a grin at him. “A lot of people think libraries are good places to make out. I guess it’s because there are secluded places to hide away, but they’re still public spaces, and some people like that — the thrill of maybe getting caught. Or maybe it’s because they’re so quiet and serious, like a church.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it a bit.” Chakotay’s voice was silken. “Or are you speaking from personal experience?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she’d flirted back.

The heat in his gaze told her that yes, he would like that very much. Kathryn allowed herself a small smirk as she steered the conversation onto safer ground for the rest of the journey.

The sun was in her eyes as they pulled into the driveway at the Paris house. Chakotay helped Kathryn down from the car, steadying her as her heel sank into the dirt. He had one hand clasping hers and the other on her elbow, and as she looked up at him she didn’t want to let go.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to hide the way her heart was thumping. “For everything, I mean. The ride, the company.”

“It was my pleasure.”

His voice was soft, and he smelled so good, and she thought maybe he’d moved closer. So, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek.

As she lowered her heels to the ground, he touched the tips of his fingers to the spot she’d kissed, the surprise in his eyes melting into a dimpled grin.

“See you tomorrow,” she managed breathlessly.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed. “Good night, Kathryn.”

She knew he was watching her as she turned and hurried inside, a wide smile on her face.

* * *

Chakotay awoke not long after sunrise, feeling eager to delve into his day. Given how poorly his writing had been going recently, he guessed his change in mood had a lot more to do with the company he had been keeping than a sudden end to writer’s block.

He laced up his sneakers for a run and headed down the stairs, hoping he could avoid his exuberant innkeeper. 

“Well, good morning, sir!”

So much for that plan. “Good morning, um, Neil,” he said, turning to see bright colors and wild hair coming toward him far too early in the day.

“So you’re a morning exercise person, I see! I thought that might be the case, since I didn’t see you last night, except for that quick hop up the stairs you did after you got back from the Paris house. What type of exercise do you like? Running? Rowing? You don’t seem much like a treadmill man to me. Oh no, that physique is obviously not for a weekend warrior, is it? I would be happy to show you around the gym we have here. It’s small but quite adequate, I can assure you.”

Chakotay paused, trying to gauge if the man was done talking. “Thank you. When I’m at home, I normally do some boxing but —”

“Boxing! Why, I just finished adding a speed bag and a double-end bag to our equipment! You can be the first to try them out.”

“Really?” Chakotay couldn’t help saying. He was impressed. Not many places he stayed on the road bothered with any type of boxing equipment, though he always packed his gloves just in case. “That would be great, actually.”

“All part of the service!” Neil chirped. 

Sixty sweaty minutes later, Chakotay was back in his room and stripping down for a shower. Neil had stayed with him throughout his entire workout, but Chakotay had been pleasantly surprised to learn there was more to the man than endless cheer. And he had to admit, it was the best gym he’d ever seen in a B&B. 

Chakotay ran soapy palms down his leg and suddenly remembered the way Kathryn’s slender hand had rested on his thigh yesterday. Then there was that kiss on the cheek. He hadn’t been expecting that. Sure, they’d both been flirting more or less constantly since they’d met, but he could tell her last relationship had really done a number on her. He wasn’t one for jumping into relationships either, but there was something about the petite librarian that made him want to swear allegiance despite how recently they’d met. Maybe when he went back to the library later, he’d get a chance to feel her hands rest on him again. 

He managed to write for a couple hours, but Chakotay’s thoughts kept straying to the library down the road. He grabbed one of the books he’d borrowed the other day, hoping that might prove fruitful. The next time he glanced up, several more hours had passed, and his stomach was growling. He was just closing the book cover when he noticed a scrawl of ink in the margin.

“Sky spirits.”

He read it again.

The ink was very faded, but he could swear it said “sky spirits” and something else. “Bendera diary” maybe? If his guess was right, this could be a reference to another book in the library’s collection.

Chakotay wolfed down a quick, very late lunch — Neil was a surprisingly good cook too — and drove to the Paris house. 

He stepped through the front door, eyes immediately seeking Kathryn.

She and Tom were seated behind the counter and seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument.

“By color? Are you crazy?”

“Is that any crazier than by height?” Tom barked back.

“Um, hello,” Chakotay put in cautiously.

“Hey buddy! Welcome back,” Tom turned toward him with a grin. “You gonna stick around and actually do some work today, or are you going to whisk Kitty-Cat here away again?”

“You’ve already used that one,” Kathryn told Tom in a bored tone, and he gave her a cheeky grin.

“Just checking that you’re paying attention, boss,” he said. He glanced from Kathryn back to Chakotay. “And now, I think I’m going to go grab, I don’t know, an afternoon snack or something. I’ll be back later. I’ll cough loudly when I get close.” 

“Tom, you can knock off early today if you want,” Kathryn told him. “It’s after three already. And you covered most of the day yourself yesterday.”

“Oh really?” Tom asked, stretching out ‘really’ in a knowing way. He laughed at the glare Kathryn tossed his way. “Who am I to say ‘no’ to that? Night, Chakotay. Night, KJ. Don’t stay up too late.” And with that, Tom whisked through a side door Chakotay had not noticed before and was gone.

He turned back to Kathryn.

“I was wondering if we’d see you today,” she said, and although her tone was light, he could sense a bit of underlying concern too.

“I write best in the morning, and then I lost track of time doing some research,” he told her and watched relief flit across her face before she tamped it down. He kicked himself for not thinking to tell her that last night. How quickly they’d moved beyond the strangers stage. He leaned on the counter, bringing him close enough to smell her light fragrance. “Sorry. I should have mentioned that.”

For a second, it looked like she might brush it off, but then she said, “I think we were both thinking about other things last night.”

He grinned. “Yeah, maybe.”

A crooked smile broke across her face. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” As she spoke, her glasses slipped down her nose and, without thinking, Chakotay reached out to gently push them back into place.

Kathryn licked her lips. “Thanks.”

Chakotay’s reply was strained. “Sure.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Kathryn cleared her throat. “Did you, um, have more research you wanted to do today?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He straightened up and placed the book he’d brought with him on the counter. “I found this while I was researching earlier.” He showed her the notation. “I thought it might be a reference to something else here in the library?”

“Sky spirits. Bendera diary.” Kathryn read aloud slowly as she tried to decipher the writing. 

“That’s what I thought it said too. Do you know what it’s talking about?”

“It’s not a lot to go on, and I don’t remember seeing that name before,” she said. “But I don’t know every single title and name yet either. Let me do some digging and see what I can find.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure.” He knew by her smile she was pleased he’d asked. 

Chakotay soon found himself behind the counter and being introduced to the eclectic array of materials that purported to classify the Paris Library collection. Leather-bound registers. Typed lists. Handwritten note cards. There had clearly been several different attempts to create a holistic system that had also just as clearly been abandoned by each subsequent librarian. After several fruitless hours, Chakotay’s eyes were stinging from reading so much copperplate script. He was about to apologize — again — to Kathryn for dragging her into this mess, when she let out a yelp.

“Bendera, Kurt. Born 1902, died 1924. Member of 1924 Telfas expedition to Central America. Diary, anthropology section, hand-bound brown leather cover, height 15.7 inches!” Kathryn was patting his chest with each excited phrase. “It’s upstairs, Chakotay!” 

Impulsively, he captured her hand in his and brought them to their feet for a quick twirl. “We should grab a drink to celebrate,” he said, smiling down at her as he brought her back around to face him. “Where’s the best place in town?”

A wicked grin snaked across Kathryn’s face. “Right here.”

“What?”

“Let me show you something,” she said, keeping hold of his hand to pull him into her office. They stopped in front of an old-fashioned card catalog. Kathryn tapped one of the labels with her finger. It read ‘For Emergencies Only.’ “This was Owen’s idea of a welcome present,” she said, sliding the drawer out to reveal a bottle of Hudson baby bourbon. The next drawer held a glass.

“I only have one glass,” she said, setting everything on her desk. “That’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” he said. “I still have to drive anyway, so I won’t have much.”

Kathryn poured a generous couple of fingers into the glass. “Well, I only have to walk down the hall. Your loss is my gain.” She gestured for him to take her chair and settled herself on the desktop in front of him. She handed him the drink. 

The rich taste of oak and vanilla hit his tongue, and Chakotay let out a sigh. “Owen Paris knows his stuff.”

Kathryn leaned forward to take the glass back, tipping it to him in a salute before taking a sip herself. “That he does.” Her lips curled into a sinful smile, and she took another taste. 

As she set the glass down, she crossed her left leg over the right at the knee, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of newly exposed thigh before she smoothed her skirt down over it. Chakotay swallowed hard and reached for the glass. He allowed the back of his wrist to lightly brush her knee on its journey to the desk and back. Kathryn’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and when she took the glass from him the next time, she held it resting lightly on her knee rather than setting it back on the desk. The invitation for further exploration was plain.

“You said the Bendera diary was upstairs, but that record you found didn’t have a call number,” he began, keeping the talk professional while their very different conversation played out in silence. “Are we going to have to hunt for it?”

Kathryn shook her head. “We have the physical description and the height measurement. That means it’s kept on the top shelves. Libraries used to do that, shelve books by height to maximize space. All the tall books together at the top, all the small books together at the bottom or whatnot. These days the most important thing you need to know is the call number, but back then you needed to know a book’s dimensions.”

“And you haven’t had a chance to integrate everything into a more modern system yet,” he said, then remembered the conversation he’d walked into several hours ago. “Is that what you and Tom were arguing about earlier?”

“I wouldn’t say arguing. Tom keeps telling me we need to get with the hip interior design craze and shelve everything by color. Because that’s useful.” She laughed and took another sip of the bourbon, her hand sliding the glass ever-so-slightly forward on her knee as she set it back down.

Chakotay accepted the offer, his fingers slipping lightly over hers as he took the glass. Her hand was cool against the heat of his fingertips, and he wanted to touch her again, feel the tingle she brought to his skin. “All teasing aside, he seems to genuinely like working for you.”

Kathryn shrugged, but he could tell she was pleased by his words. “That’s just how he is. You know how much Tom likes you by how much he goes out of his way to bother you.” She lifted the bottle and poured a couple more inches into the glass resting on his thigh. “I’ve been a little surprised by how much he’s embraced working here. I think it’s a good fit for him. I need to check with Owen, but I’ve actually been thinking I’d like to ask Tom to stay on after the summer.”

The lazy ease of their dual conversation was killing Chakotay in the best way possible. He decided to see what happened if he made the subtext a little more texty. “I’m learning all kinds of interesting facts about libraries. Shelving by height,” he said, taking a sip. As he lowered the glass he added, “People making out in the stacks.”

After a beat, Kathryn leaned forward, but rather than take the bourbon as he expected, she lightly grasped his tie between her fingers and tugged gently. 

“You always wear a tie when you come here,” she said, keeping a light hold, her face still close to his. "There's no dress code, you know. I mean, other than ‘a shirt and shoes’. You don't have to wear a tie." Her other hand came forward and she deftly loosened the knot, pulling his tie off and tossing it behind her onto the desk. 

He forced himself to laugh. "I know. It's actually the easiest thing for me. I have a whole wardrobe of interchangeable clothes I can just put on and that work for pretty much any situation I'm in. It's like a uniform."

She smiled. "Me too. Skirt? Blouse? Necklace? Done." 

His last gambit had led to interesting results, and Chakotay was just buzzed enough to attempt another one. “I have a confession to make,” he said. Kathryn’s eyebrows rose, and she leaned back slightly, but he could tell it was because she was intrigued and wanted to see him better, not because she was put off. “I have wondered, ever since I met you,” he told her, looking straight into her eyes, “whether those are panty hose or stockings and garters you wear underneath all those pencil skirts of yours.”

Kathryn held his gaze, leaning forward to take the glass from him. Another swallow of bourbon, then she set the glass down on the table. Before Chakotay could wonder what this meant, she rested her hand on her knee.

Today’s skirt had a zipper running up the front left side, a fashion feature which he had been desperately hoping all afternoon had been selected for his benefit. His eyes were riveted to her knee, and he watched her hand gently tug the zipper up and up. As the halves of the skirt separated, the top of a stocking and pale, creamy skin came into view. The zipper stopped moving.

Slowly he reached out, running the tip of his index finger along the teeth of the zipper then traced the small circumference of the stocking top he could see. Chakotay licked his lips and glanced up into Kathryn’s face. A triumphant little smile rested on her own lips, and her pupils were dark with desire.

“Are you satisfied with the outcome of your research query, Mr. Chakotay?” she asked in a husky voice.

“Oh, very, Ms. Janeway,” he responded, and his own voice was gravelly with want. 

“We should … continue your research in the stacks, try to locate the diary you need,” she said, sliding off the desk to stand between his open knees. 

Chakotay pushed the chair back a few inches and stood, the motion leaving little room between them. He could feel her soft breasts pressing lightly against his chest. “After you,” he said, gesturing to the main floor. 

Kathryn inhaled and turned away. He followed her closely across the library, only a step behind her on the stairs, watching the sway of her hips as she climbed. By the time they reached the top, he was painfully hard and didn’t give a damn about the diary. 

She led him down a narrow aisle, stopping a few bays in. “Here’s the anthropology section,” she said a little breathlessly. She looked up to the top shelf, and he followed her gaze. After a short time, she pointed at a thin volume of brown leather. “I think that’s it.” 

She lifted onto her tiptoes, but couldn’t quite reach the diary. She’d just muttered something about needing a kick stool when Chakotay leaned up from behind her and grabbed the book, clutching the edge of a shelf for balance with his other hand. His body was pressed along hers from shin to chest, and she was all but cradled in his arms. There was no way she couldn’t feel how she was affecting him. 

With a soft sigh, Kathryn sank her heels back down to the ground, the movement tracing her spine blissfully along his cock. With a burst of coherence, he laid the diary along the top of the row of books in front of him, then both of his hands were free to grasp her hips. 

He lowered his head to the curve of her neck. His tongue darted out and traced a short line upward before his lips took over. Her head tilted to the side, inviting more. He took her with small nips and nibbles, his tongue soothing the path of his teeth. 

Kathryn turned in his arms, her mouth capturing his, and they both gasped. She lifted her hands to grip the edge of the shelf running above and behind her head, a move that arched her spine and pressed her tighter against him. Her tongue ran along his lower lip, then she sucked it into her mouth. Chakotay groaned. She tasted of bourbon and fire. He deepened the kiss, and his hands traced firmly along her thighs, lifting her skirt to again reveal the stockings beneath. 

One hand gently kneaded her breast through the silk before slipping inside first blouse then bra. Her nipple was taut, and he rolled it between his fingers, enjoying the sound she made in her throat.

The other hand followed the path of the stocking, skipping lightly over the stud of the suspender loop, seeking her inner thigh. His fingertips brushed wet heat covered in thin silk, and Kathryn moaned into his mouth. Her hand came down to caress him through his jeans. He thrust instinctively into her palm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. 

With that thought, some sanity returned to him. They were both tipsy, and they were well on their way to sex against a bookshelf. His body cried out for him to continue, he wanted to continue, but they couldn’t do this. Not tonight. 

His hands gentled. His lips softened. He pulled back. Kathryn’s mouth tried to chase his, then she too stopped and seemed to reconsider.

She laid her forehead against his chest, breathing heavily. “I think we found that book you wanted,” she said.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, I think we were quite successful.”

She lifted her face, her eyes bright and lips swollen. “Want some coffee?”

He knew he’d regret this decision later when he couldn’t fall asleep, but coffee seemed like the best possible choice at the moment, for several reasons. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

They reached for the diary at the same time, and Chakotay was glad they were both regaining their senses. He let Kathryn carry the book, lead the way back to her office. He inspected their find while she prepared the coffee.

“Is it the diary?” she asked, coming up beside him with two mugs. The zipper on her skirt was fastened again, though not all the way back to the hem, he noticed. 

“It is. It looks like he was a young man on his first expedition.” He took a sip of the piping hot drink and decided a scalded tongue was probably what he needed tonight. 

“I hope it proves fruitful.”

“Me too.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for helping me locate it.”

She blushed and took a hasty sip of coffee. 

They finished their drinks in companionable silence, Kathryn watching over his shoulder as he skimmed quickly through the diary. Chakotay glanced out the window. It was dusk, and the rays of sunset were scattering the greens and blues and reds of the stained glass across the library.

“I should get going,” he said. “Do you want me to sign this out in the register?”

“I’ll take care of it. I trust you.”

He looked down at her and decided she really meant that as sincerely as it had sounded.

“Thank you, Kathryn.”

She walked him out to his Jeep, stepping back as he opened the driver’s side door and placed the diary on the passenger seat. He turned around and found her standing close. She went back on tiptoe and kissed him. This kiss was quiet and sweet, the promise of more to come, and he let her lead.

As she pulled away, she smiled and said, “I want to invite you inside, very much, but … not tonight. I need to know this isn’t just the bourbon.” He opened this mouth to say it wasn’t but that he agreed, when she pointed at the family wing of the house, aglow with light, and added, “Besides, Tom is probably spying on us.”

Confusion rippled through him. “Tom?” 

“Yes, that’s his window up there. His room is right across from mine …” her voice petered off and awareness flashed in her eyes. “We, um, never actually mentioned that Tom is Tom Paris, did we?” 

So many little clues suddenly fell into place for him. That explained a lot about the younger man’s teasing affection for his boss.

She laid her hand on his cheek, and there was a faint rasp against his evening stubble. “Give me a little more time?”

Chakotay nodded and turned his face to kiss the inside of her wrist. “You can have all the time you need.”

She ran her thumb across his lower lip and pulled her hand back to her side. “Thank you. See you tomorrow?”

He smiled as the sun fell below the horizon. “I’ll stop by after I finish the diary, probably early afternoon. Let you know what I discover.” 

They said their goodnights, and Chakotay climbed into his seat. He could see her in the rearview mirror, silhouetted against the house, as he pulled onto the road. She waved, and he couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 


	4. Chapter 4

“You know, you really shouldn’t wear such sexy skirts when you’re six steps up a ladder like that.”

Kathryn’s eyes went wide and her body froze. Carefully, she turned her head toward the man who’d addressed her. He leaned against the bookshelf to her left, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit pants. A laconic smile flirted with the corners of his mouth.

“What are you doing here, Justin?” she demanded.

“Enjoying the local sights.” He dragged his gaze deliberately along the length of her body.

She glared at him, then puffed an errant strand of hair from her eyes and began to climb back down the ladder. As she turned to step down to the floor, Justin caught hold of her hand and used his leverage to pull her tight against him.

“Let go of me.”

“Not even a kiss?” He grinned, then released her. 

“I’ll ask you again,” Kathryn said, hands finding her hips, “why are you here?”

The smirk faded from his face, leaving him looking serious. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

Justin glanced pointedly toward Tom, who was leaning on the counter preparing a package for interlibrary loan. “I mean, in private.”

“Don’t mind me,” Tom interjected. “I’m just sitting here, doing my job.”

“Fine.” Kathryn turned to the little office at the opposite end of the main library floor. When Justin had followed her inside, she turned back to him. “What did you want to talk about?”

To her surprise, he shifted on his feet in an uncharacteristic display of hesitance. “About us, actually. You and me.”

“There is no us,” Kathryn reminded him, though she made sure to keep her tone calm and conciliatory. “You know as well as I do that it’s over.”

“Is it?” His eyes were very solemn and very blue. “Kathryn, when I saw you the day before yesterday at the lawyers’, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe we made a mistake.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“Think about what we used to have,” he urged her, his voice soft. “We have history, Kathryn. We were so good together, and we know each other inside out. Don’t you miss that?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

He reached for her hand, and this time she didn’t object. “Then let’s give it another try,” he implored.

“Justin, we fought so much at the end,” she reminded him gently.

“Let me make it up to you.” Justin’s other hand was on her shoulder now, his thumb rubbing softly across her collarbone. “I miss you, Kathryn. I didn’t even realize how much until I saw you again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him with sympathy. “But I don’t feel the same way.”

* * *

“Hi,” said Chakotay as he approached the long counter where Kathryn’s assistant slouched, surrounded by books. “Tom, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Tom stood straight. “Hey, I didn’t realize you wrote that _Threshold_ book until Kathryn told me. That book is awesome, man.”

Chakotay grinned. “Thanks. You and Kathryn are probably the only two people who think so.”

“People don’t appreciate a good story these days,” Tom said, shaking his head. “I’m going to give it to my friend Tuvok when I’m done. He runs that coffee shop on the corner, you know? I have a feeling he’ll get a kick out of your book. Now, how can I help you?”

“I came to return this diary,” Chakotay held it up, “and try to track down a couple of photographs that are mentioned in it.” He glanced around, trying for casual, and saw from Tom’s knowing expression that he’d fallen far short of it. Giving up the pretence, he asked, “Is Kathryn here?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back office.” Tom jerked his head in that direction.

“Thanks.”

“Maybe you should wait for her here,” Tom called as Chakotay strode away. “She has a visitor.”

Too late. Chakotay had rounded the last of the stacks and caught sight of Kathryn through the open office door. His steps halted.

There was a man with her — tall, dark, and intimidatingly handsome — who held her hand in one of his own. His other hand was on her shoulder. As Chakotay watched, the man slid his hand to cup Kathryn’s chin, tilting her face up to his, and bent toward her.

He turned away before he could see any more and walked out of the library without even a goodbye to Tom.

* * *

“You have to be kidding me.” Kathryn dodged Justin’s kiss, ducking out from under his arm. “Justin, I just told you I’m not interested. Did you think I was playing hard to get?”

Her former boyfriend stepped back, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were. And I’d like you to leave.”

“All right.” He raised his hands, palms out in surrender. “Look, I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, but I really do want to talk to you. I have a room at the local bed and breakfast tonight. Could we go somewhere for dinner?”

“I have plans.” She didn’t — yet. But she was hoping that would change as soon as she saw Chakotay.

“Breakfast, then?”

She hesitated, then gave in. “Okay. Meet me at eight a.m. at Nebula Coffee.”

He smiled at her. “Sounds great.”

Justin talked her into giving him a tour of the library after that, and although Kathryn hurried through it as much as she could, he was still there by the time Tom tracked her down to let her know he was leaving to do his mandatory community service. She blew out an exasperated breath when Justin finally left, and ducked quickly into the bathroom to tidy her hair and freshen her makeup.

Checking her watch, she realized it was already past four p.m. and frowned. Surely Chakotay should have come to the library by now?

Maybe he was on a roll with his writing, she reasoned. In the meantime, she’d been wanting to dig into the collection where she’d found the Bendera diary. There might be something in there that Chakotay would find useful.

But by six-fifteen, she forced herself to admit that he wasn’t coming.

Dejected, she locked up the library, climbed the stairs to the family wing and opened the refrigerator in her little kitchen, realizing she hadn’t eaten all day. There was nothing in there, nor in the pantry — not that whipping up a nutritious meal from random ingredients had ever been her forté.

Kathryn kicked off her heels and slumped back on her bed. All she wanted to do was curl up under the covers and nurse her bruised ego, but she was too hungry for that.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she’d picked up her phone and dialed Justin’s cell.

“Hey,” came his voice, warm and familiar.

“Hi,” she said. “I’ll take you up on that dinner invitation after all. Give me the address where you’re staying. I’ll bring pizza.”

* * *

Chakotay wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a towel, picked up his gloves and locked the gym door behind him as Neil had requested. He’d worked out so hard he felt like a limp noodle, and it was going to take the last of his energy to drag himself upstairs to his room.

He hoped he’d worn himself out enough to sleep, but he suspected he’d be lying awake for some time, replaying the memory of Kathryn in the arms of that dark-haired man. Her ex, he assumed, unless she was in the habit of running from one man to the next with barely space for a breath in between.

That wasn’t fair. He’d only met Kathryn three days ago; he really had no idea what her personal life was like, aside from the information she’d divulged about Justin. And although he was already feeling that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, it would be presumptuous in the extreme to assume she felt the same way.

He reached the top of the short staircase that separated the gym from the foyer, in time to see that dark-haired man from earlier opening the main entrance to let in a woman. He greeted her with a kiss to her cheek, took a pizza box from her hands and stepped back, giving Chakotay an unobstructed view of her.

Chestnut hair piled atop her head, a short, tight skirt, a slinky blouse, and heels.

She looked past the man, right at him, and the smile drained away from her face.

The man turned around too, frowning when he saw Chakotay.

“You know this guy, Kathryn?” he asked.

Kathryn cleared her throat. “Justin, this is Chakotay,” she said in a monotone. “He’s doing a research project at the library. Chakotay, this is Justin, my …” She trailed off.

Chakotay stepped forward cautiously. “Nice to meet you,” he lied. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

Justin’s eyebrows rose, and Chakotay read the unspoken question easily: _why the hell would you?_ “It was a spur of the moment decision,” Justin answered.

“It was?” Kathryn frowned at him. “I thought you said —” She broke off again.

Justin’s hand found the small of her back, and when she stiffened infinitesimally he slid his arm around her waist instead, pulling her close to his side. “I’m here to see Kathryn,” he told Chakotay, and though his tone was casual there was challenge in his eyes.

Chakotay’s gaze strayed to her. Her cheeks were flushed, the way they had been last night when he’d touched her, and she was chewing her lower lip. He swallowed.

“Well,” he muttered, “enjoy your night,” and he moved past them as quickly as he could, jogging up the stairs and closing his door firmly behind him.

A minute or two later he heard a door shut across the hall.

He showered, threw together a sandwich in his tiny kitchenette, and forced himself to sit down at the little writing desk and work until his eyes burned, but nothing could stop him from watching the clock and straining for the sound of that door closing again. So before he could give into impulse and start peeking through the spyhole, he took himself to bed and pulled a pillow over his ears.

* * *

At ten a.m., Kathryn sent Tom out for the largest coffee he could find in the hope that it would kill the last dregs of her headache. Last night, Justin had brought out a bottle of Ranger Creek single malt, and she’d ended up drinking far too much.

Chakotay turned up a little after eleven, while she was upstairs in her room hunting for Tylenol; as soon as she returned to the library, Tom pulled her aside to let her know that her ‘tattooed hero’ was in a surly mood, so he’d pointed him in the direction of the Telfas section and left him well alone. Kathryn’s eyes strayed to the second floor, but she thought better of going up there. If he wanted to talk to her, she wasn’t hard to find.

Around noon, just as her headache finally receded, Justin showed up at the library carrying a small bag she recognized immediately. He’d stuffed it with some of the belongings she’d left at their apartment when she moved out, and had given it to her at some point during the evening before.

“You forgot to take this when you left last night,” he told her, sidling into the row where she was rearranging shelves, “or was it this morning?”

Tom, who was in the next row over, poked his head out to give Kathryn a wide-eyed stare, then pulled it back in again.

“Oh,” she muttered, taking it from him ungraciously and looking around in the hope that Chakotay was too far away to overhear them. “You didn’t have to bring it all the way over here.”

“I brought it all the way to Maplebrook for you,” he pointed out. “Kathryn, about last night —”

“Do we have to do this now?” she cut him off. “I’m sure you have to get back to the city.”

“I do, but —”

“You’d better go if you want to miss traffic.” Kathryn edged past him, but he followed her over to the main counter.

“We didn’t finish our conversation —”

“It sounds like you did, actually.”

Both Kathryn and Justin turned in surprise at Chakotay’s even tone.

“Who the hell are you?” Justin asked rudely.

Kathryn laid a quelling hand on his arm. “He’s the writer you met last night,” she reminded him. “He’s here researching material for his book. And I need to do my job and help him.”

“I think I should stick around,” Justin answered, eyes on Chakotay.

“Justin, please —”

“Kathryn —”

“She’s asked you politely,” Chakotay interrupted as Justin took a step forward, arm outstretched to keep Kathryn behind him. “I suggest you do as she asks.”

Justin took a larger step, bringing him within arm’s length of Chakotay, who stood his ground. Out of the corner of her eye, Kathryn caught sight of Tom emerging from the stacks several rows down and moving in their direction.

“Does this guy speak for you, Kathryn?” Justin demanded.

“No, he absolutely does not,” she retorted, pushing his arm aside. “I’m quite capable of telling you to get out all by myself.”

Ignoring her, Justin moved in closer.

The two men were almost nose to nose now. They were roughly matched in height, but Chakotay was broader; Kathryn guessed he’d outweigh Justin by a good thirty pounds. She glanced between their faces — Justin’s jaw was clenched, while Chakotay was completely still and expressionless — and suddenly she knew exactly what was about to happen.

And then it all happened at once.

Justin’s fist shot up from waist height in an uppercut that snapped Chakotay’s head back, making him stumble back a step or two. But he was poised on his toes in an instant, and when Justin swung a slightly wild left hook he blocked it easily. The next moment, Justin was face-down on the floor with his arm twisted at an awkward angle across his back and Chakotay’s knee pinning his hips to the ground. Blood welled from a split in Chakotay’s lower lip, but he was otherwise unruffled. Justin, helpless, squirmed and grunted in pain. 

Tom ambled over and cocked his head, looking down at them. “Slick move, Chakotay. Think you could teach me that one someday?”

“Sure.” Chakotay wasn’t even breathing hard. “It’s come in handy for me a few times.”

He twisted his attacker’s arm a fraction harder.

“Get the fuck off me,” yelped Justin, as Kathryn gasped, “Chakotay, let him up!”

Immediately, Chakotay rose gracefully to his feet and extended a hand to help Justin stand. Justin ignored it, clambering upright and rubbing his shoulder with a mutinous glare.

“You okay, sport?” Tom addressed Justin, not bothering to hide his grin.

“That’s enough, Tom,” Kathryn growled. “I think you should escort Justin to his car. No,” she snapped as Justin opened his mouth to argue, “you need to go. Now. Goodbye, Justin.”

She turned back to Chakotay, who was touching a fingertip to his bleeding lip.

“As for you,” her voice was deadly quiet, “come with me. There’s a first aid kit in the office bathroom.”

Without waiting for him, she stalked off, every line of her body rigid with fury.

* * *

Damn, she was beautiful when she was angry.

Chakotay sat on a sturdy metal chair, holding as still as he could while she dabbed at his cut with a damp cotton swab. He couldn’t take his eyes off her: her pretty mouth pressed into a line and her blue eyes dark with ire. She stood between his knees, her outer thighs brushing the insides of his as she twisted and moved, and when she bent forward to clean the wound on his lip, her blouse gaped open and afforded him the most intriguing view. He had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching for her.

Then she poured iodine on the swab, and he winced as she swiped it over his damaged lip.

She met his eyes. “Serves you right.”

“I know.” He felt compelled to add, “He did throw the first punch. In fact, I didn’t throw any.”

“Which is the only reason I’m not kicking you out on your ass right this second,” she said tartly. “Besides, don’t try to tell me you didn’t enjoy that hammerlock you used on him.”

“You know about hammerlocks?” Chakotay eyed her with new admiration.

She shrugged. “I like watching MMA. And I’ve done some training. When you’re a woman in a city like New York, it’s smart to know how to defend yourself.”

She put the cotton swab down and fixed him with a glare.

“Which is how I know you could have taken him down without hurting him quite so much. I saw your gear last night — I know you’re a fighter.”

“Not a fighter,” he corrected. “Just a boxer.”

“Whatever. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy causing him pain.”

“Actually, I was enjoying the humiliation more than the pain,” he muttered.

Kathryn made a sound of frustration.

“Speaking of which,” he went on, “I can’t help noticing you’re taking care of me, rather than him…”

She avoided his eyes. “So?”

“So I guess I’m wondering,” Chakotay risked catching her hand where it rested on his thigh, apparently without her having noticed, “what’s going on, Kathryn? Are you with him, or are you with me?”

She looked suddenly vulnerable. “You tell me.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

Kathryn fidgeted. “The night before last, I really thought we were starting something,” she said softly. “You told me you’d come to see me the next day — you made a point of letting me know when to expect you. And then,” she swallowed, “you never showed up.”

“But your ex-boyfriend did, so you spent the night with him?” he couldn’t stop himself from accusing.

“No!” She stared at him, shocked. “Justin showed up out of the blue, and yes, he did want to talk about getting back together. So I agreed to have dinner with him. But I didn’t sleep with him, and we’re not together. Because,” she hesitated, linking her fingers with his, “there’s you.”

Chakotay was unable to stop the smile spreading across his face, even though it hurt his split lip. He lifted his other hand to her hip, guiding her closer.

“I did come yesterday,” he said. “But you were in your office with him, and I didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to ask you.”

Kathryn lowered her lashes. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah,” he said roughly, pulling her close and tight between his legs and tilting his head back to gaze up at her. “What should we do about it?”

A wicked smile danced in her eyes. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she whispered as she dipped her head to fit her lips to his.

* * *

The warmth of Chakotay’s big hands on her hips, even through the double layers of silk blouse and linen skirt, was making Kathryn’s skin flush. She pressed closer, wishing he was standing up instead of sitting in that chair so she could rub the entire length of her body along his.

That thought made her shiver, and Chakotay responded by sliding one hand around to the small of her back and the other up to cup her breast. His thumb rubbed her nipple through the silk. Kathryn groaned and sucked his bottom lip between her teeth.

He flinched, and she tasted blood, remembering his cut. Pulling away, she started to blurt out an apology, but he shook his head. He was grinning, breathing faster than when he’d taken Justin down, and he looked a little dazed.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped. “Come back here.”

Her eyes widened. He urged her toward him with the hand on her back, and as soon as she was within reach his lips found her neck. He sucked gently at her pulse point, traced his tongue from the hollow of her throat to just below her ear. She moaned and buried her hands in his hair, guiding his mouth where she wanted it, tilting her head to encourage him.

Chakotay kissed his way along the line of her collar until he reached her top button. Taking it between his teeth, he slipped it dexterously from its buttonhole, then repeated the action with the next fastening down. He nudged at the edges of her blouse with his nose until he’d revealed the soft inner curves of her breasts.

He glanced up at her, a question in his eyes, and Kathryn nodded, her lips parted and breath caught in anticipation. With a quick smile, he returned to nuzzling her collarbone. She felt his fingers slide up under her blouse to trace across her back, and realized he was looking for her bra strap so he could unhook the catch. She smirked to herself as his questing fingers found nothing but her.

She heard Chakotay groan softly, then felt him press a kiss to her sternum. Suddenly impatient, she leaned back and unbuttoned her blouse with shaking fingers, leaving the ends tucked into her skirt. The silk edges of the blouse, open to her waist, still covered most of her breasts, but she knew by the way his eyes were riveted to her that her nipples were hard and pushing at the soft fabric. 

Then she took his hand and pulled it onto her torso, so that his palm was flat against the bare skin between her breasts.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them as he slipped his hand under one side of her blouse, baring her breast, and skimmed the tips of his fingers across her nipple. Kathryn shuddered and let her head tip back, let him anchor his other arm around her waist as he bent forward to brush his lips from the center of her chest, across the curve of her breast until he could take her nipple in his mouth.

Her moan was so loud she startled them both. Chakotay pulled back and Kathryn covered her mouth with one hand, stifling a sudden giggle.

“Kathryn, should we —”

“Come with me,” she cut him off, stepping back so she could catch his hand. She urged him to his feet, then, still holding his hand, towed him out of the bathroom, across the main library floor and up the staircase, wending through the stacks until they reached the darkest and most remote corner of the upper level.

She turned to him, dragging her lower lip between her teeth before she husked, “You remember how I told you that making out in the stacks is practically a library tradition?”

“I do,” he swallowed.

Kathryn hooked a forefinger into his belt and tugged him closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “Let me show you why.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, winding the fingers of both her hands into his and pulling his arms around her. With her hands trapped behind her back, her spine arched, pushing her breasts against his chest. Chakotay freed one of his hands, capturing her wrists in the other, and slid her blouse from one shoulder, then the other, until it slipped off and left her naked to the waist. With his free hand he explored her body, tracing each curve, cupping and pinching, while his tongue slid into her mouth and twined with hers.

Kathryn worked her hands free of his grip so she could tug off his tie and unbutton his shirt. She caught her breath at the sight of him, her gaze roaming over his broad, muscled chest and smooth brown skin. His arms came around her and she had a few delicious moments to enjoy how her body was pressed against all that warmth, and then he was lifting her, moving backwards, until her back hit the narrow lancet window at the end of the row and her behind rested on the little ledge below it. The ledge that was the perfect height, she almost immediately discovered, to align her hips with Chakotay’s.

His hand alighted on her knee, his thumb stroking inside and along her thigh.

“Are you wearing stockings again today?” His voice was low and smoky.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Slowly, holding her gaze, he pushed her knees apart, moving into the space between them as one hand slid down the back of her skirt and the other slipped up, up, along her thigh until his fingers traced the silky edge where her stockings met her skin.

“You have no idea what these do to me,” he growled in her ear.

Kathryn brought one hand in to cup the hot bulge in his pants and gave a breathless laugh. “I might have some idea.”

He pressed into her touch as his own hand slid inward, his thumb tracing the outline of her folds through her silk panties. Leaning back far enough to catch her eye, Chakotay smirked, “You seem to be somewhat affected yourself, Ms. Janeway.”

She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her lips parting on an indrawn breath as he brushed aside the inner seam of her panties and slid his thumb over hot, sodden flesh. “God,” she said raggedly, eyes closing.

A second later Chakotay stepped away from her and Kathryn opened her eyes on a mew of complaint, but it tailed off into a moan when he sank to his knees before her. He slid his hands all the way up under her skirt until he reached the waistband of her panties. He looked up from between her legs, and the black heat in his eyes sent a spear of want arrowing directly to Kathryn’s clit.

“Can I?” he asked her, fingering the elastic of her panties. She nodded jerkily, and he eased them over her hips, down her thighs, and dropped them to the floor.

Then he leaned back in, his broad shoulders pressing her thighs wide apart, and swirled his tongue around her clitoris and along the length of her slit, finishing deep inside her.

Kathryn grabbed the edge of the window ledge, arched her back and choked back a cry, gasping, “Chakotay!”

“Better be quiet,” he murmured, with a quick nip to her thigh for emphasis.

And although she didn’t see how that was possible, she gritted her teeth against the sounds that tried to escape her as he dipped his head again, his lips and tongue and teeth working her skilfully to a climax that took her breath away.

* * *

Her husky whine as she came was nearly his undoing.

Chakotay concentrated on easing her down to a state of quivering bliss with slow, soft licks. Then, because he couldn’t resist, he slipped a finger inside her and curled it until he found the little patch of rough flesh. He rubbed it gently, added a second finger, and felt her clench hard around him, her body shaking as she spasmed again.

Eventually he shifted back to sit on his heels, resting his hands on Kathryn’s wide-apart knees. The sight of her took his breath away. Her skirt was rucked up around her hips, her head tilted back against the window, thick strands of her coppery hair tumbling around her face. It occurred to him that he’d never seen her hair down, and suddenly he wanted to, more than anything.

_Almost anything_ , he amended as Kathryn’s eyes slitted half-open and she licked her lips. Chakotay’s cock swelled even further in response. Rising, he moved in close to her again and bent to kiss her softly.

She gave a quiet moan and licked the taste of herself from his lips, then reached for him, using the tips of her fingers to explore the shape of him under his jeans. Chakotay shuddered as she unbuckled his belt, opened his fly, and slid her hand inside.

He let her stroke him on the outside of his shorts, then inside for a moment or two, then put his hand on her wrist to still her. “Kathryn,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheekbone, “I want to fuck you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she rasped back immediately. “Right here. Right now.”

If she kept talking in that throaty voice of hers while her long fingers wrapped so deliciously around him, Chakotay really was going to lose it. He put some space between them so he could think clearly, yanked his wallet out of his back pocket and fished a foil packet out of it.

Looking at Kathryn once again to be absolutely certain, he saw that her lips were parted and her gaze fixed on his face. She hooked her stockinged toes into the elastic of his shorts on both sides and dragged downwards until his cock sprang free.

“Do it,” she said breathlessly.

He wasted no more time in ripping open the packet and rolling the condom on. Then he grasped himself with one hand and guided his cock to her, rubbing the head in her wetness until he was coated with her and she was writhing, her hands on his hips, trying to pull him inside of her.

The sensation of easing his way into her hot, slick channel was heaven. Chakotay pressed forward until he was all the way in, listening to her helpless little moans, feeling her fingernails digging into his lower back. He felt as though he might come that very second without even one more stroke, so he dipped his forehead to hers and recited verb conjugations in his head until he was certain he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

At last, urged by her hands on his ass and her thighs squeezing his hips, he pulled out with excruciating slowness, then drove back in with a corkscrewing twist, making sure he ground his pelvis directly onto her clit.

Kathryn’s eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped, but before she could speak he clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shh,” he hissed in her ear, and followed it up with another roll of his hips into her. 

She nodded, leaning back on her hands for leverage as he pulled back and thrust into her again. The way her breasts bounced as he jolted her nearly blew his mind. Chakotay bent to suck at one nipple, then the other, feeling her hand come up to twist into his hair.

He wrapped one hand around her thigh so he could feel the silk of her stocking and moved the other to press his thumb against her clit, enjoying the rosy flush on her bare upper body. She was so wet around him, so tight. Chakotay settled into a hard rhythm that made her bite her lip to hold back her whimpers, a rhythm he was pretty sure he could keep up all night.

At least, until she reached down between them, cupped his balls, and pressed the tip of her finger to the spot just behind them.

He made a sound that could have been the beginning of a word or maybe a strangled shout as incandescence burst behind his eyes, and then he was lunging into her as far as he could go, emptying himself as she squeezed and rippled around him, his arms wrapping around her and his face buried in the damp curve of her neck.

“Wow,” he gasped, when he could speak. “That was …”

She was looking at him, head tilted, a soft smile on her lips.

“Did you come?”

Kathryn laughed, a delighted, unfettered sound. “Several times.”

Chakotay bent to kiss her, but with both of them smiling it wasn’t an easy task. “If you hadn’t half killed me, Ms. Janeway, I’d brag that there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Kathryn wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her bare breasts against his chest. “That raincheck had better come with an early cash-in, Mr. Chakotay.”

He was tempted to slide down between her legs to taste her again, but his head was starting to clear and he figured they’d pushed their luck far enough already. He stepped back, careful to grasp the base of his cock as he pulled the condom off and tied it securely, concealing it in the palm of his hand. Kathryn tugged her blouse up onto her shoulders and buttoned it, and Chakotay tucked himself back into his jeans, then scooped her panties up from the floor and into his pocket.

Her eyes went wide, and he gave her his cheekiest dimpled grin. “Consider it a down payment.”

She was still giggling as he helped her into her shoes and smoothed down her skirt, and he held her hand as they made their way back down the stairs.

Tom was sitting at the main counter, the tips of his ears unmistakably rosy.

“Well, hello, you two,” he said in that smooth, knowing tone. “I see you’ve been busy with some private research. Hope you both found what you were looking for.”

Kathryn’s cheeks blazed as red as Tom’s ears, and she turned to Chakotay, muttering, “I’ll walk you out.”

She was silent until they got to where he’d parked his Jeep, and then she stood there digging her toe into the gravel on the drive.

Chakotay tipped her chin up. “Hey. Kathryn. Are you okay?”

“That was …”

“Incredible?”

“Unprofessional. In the extreme.” She shook her head, turning away, and he couldn’t read the tone of her voice as she continued: “And completely unlike me. I would never have behaved that way when I worked at NYPL. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“I happen to like who you are,” Chakotay said.

The sun was behind her, and even squinting, he couldn’t make out her expression. “I think,” she hesitated, “I’m a little scared of it … and this. Us. Maybe we should —”

“— take some time to cool off?” he finished for her, even though it was difficult to maintain his even tone. “It’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding conflicted and unhappy.

Chakotay bent to kiss her cheek, quickly, and turned to climb into his car. “I’ll see you soon,” he said as he started the engine.

When she didn’t reply, he nodded and shut the car door. He could still see her in the rear-view mirror as he drove away, her shoulders slumped, one hand rubbing at her temple as though she regretted every single moment of the best hour he’d ever spent in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

Chakotay passed a restless night, his brain churning over and over that last exchange with Kathryn. He finally admitted defeat as the sun rose, pulling on some shorts for a run; even boxing was associated with her now, and he needed to clear his head.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet on the sidewalk allowed him to finally focus. Kathryn had obviously been embarrassed that Tom knew what they’d been doing in the stacks, and maybe even that it had happened at all. She was understandably proud of her work, her professional persona intimately entwined with her identity. And she had been through so much these past six months: ending a long-standing relationship, leaving behind a job and city she loved. It was no surprise that she might not have fully processed how much those changes had affected her.

He’d finished her sentence — suggested they take some time to cool off — so that she didn’t have to be the one to say it. But he didn’t want to cool off. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and talk this through, help her understand she could take all the time she needed to know that what they had was for real. Jumping into a relationship wasn’t exactly his modus operandi either, but with Kathryn … it just felt right.

He began his loop back to the B&B, determined to speak with Kathryn as soon as the library opened. If she wanted time, she could have all the time she needed, but he had to let her know he was ready to stand at her side. 

Back in his room, he grabbed his cell phone off the bedside table so he could check the time before his shower. Seven missed calls. His heart leapt, his thumb scrolling through the notifications. 

The missed calls were all from B’Elanna. She’d sent him a text too. “Where the fuck are you? Call me,” it read.

Chakotay sank heavily onto the bed. He punched the button to dial her back.

“Okay, what the fuck, Chakotay?” B’Elanna said.

“I’m sorry, Lanna. I was … out, and I didn’t take my phone.”

There was silence, then B’Elanna said, “This doesn’t sound like a good ‘out’ either. Are you okay?”

He let his breath out slowly. “Not really, but I’ll fix it soon. I hope.” He forced his thoughts back to the present. “How about you? Why were you calling so early?”

“I got your deal,” B’Elanna said. “But it’ll cost you. Federation won’t agree to anything that delays their profit unless you can offer them something in return.”

Chakotay did not like the sound of that. “Such as?”

“A full press international book tour with all the works. Six weeks, minimum.”

“No way, B’Elanna.”

“This is not negotiable, Chakotay. You wanted this deal, you better come to the table.”

“The Fall semester starts again in a little over two months,” he protested. “I can’t miss classes; I’ve got a full teaching load."

“You won’t miss any classes.” She paused then said, “We leave tonight.”

“What?” He had to have heard her wrong.

“We're on a five p.m. flight out of JFK.”

“What the hell? B’Elanna, I’m upstate. I have to drive back. I have to pack.”

“One of their other authors, somebody-or-other Cavit, just broke his leg in a freak running thing and had to pull out of his tour. Federation is sending you as his replacement so they don't have to cancel all the arrangements.”

“Welcome to the shit list, huh?” he muttered.

“The shit list?” B’Elanna scoffed. “Chakotay, we're about to spend the next six weeks in Europe on somebody else’s dime. It’s not the worst thing that could happen.”

“It’s not that. It just … the timing is really bad.”

“Because of that research you’re doing? Come on, the library will still be there when we get back.”

“That’s not …” He sighed. “I’ll tell you about it on the plane, okay, Lanna?”

“It’s an eight hour flight to Frankfurt, so we’ll have plenty of time,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the airport at two o’clock.” The line went dead.

Chakotay stared at the phone in his hand. There was no way he was going to be able to get everything he needed done in time if he didn't leave now. And if Kathryn wasn’t up yet, there’d be no chance to say goodbye before he left town.

After a hurried checkout with Neil, whose pajamas were a technicolor marvel nobody should be faced with so early in the morning, Chakotay tossed his hastily packed bag into the back seat and pulled onto the road. He slowed down as he approached the Paris property, but the house was completely dark. He’d have to call her later, let her know what had happened, and hope they could maybe work things out over the phone.

His busy mind turned to everything he’d need to do before his flight: which clothes he’d need for various events, asking his neighbor to keep bringing in his mail, the chapters he should choose for readings. He was almost to his apartment in Brooklyn when he remembered that Kathryn had never given him her cell number. All he had was the library’s main line, and given what she'd said yesterday about unprofessional behavior in the workplace, he couldn’t contact her there, even if it was their only connection.

Chakotay slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he ground out with each contact.

There was no time to turn around. He’d miss his flight, and he couldn’t do that to B’Elanna. He couldn’t screw up this miracle she’d pulled together to help him. 

He had no idea when he’d be able to talk to Kathryn next. He only hoped she’d let him explain when he did have the chance.   


* * *

Kathryn poked her hand out from under the duvet, fumbling to locate the off button of the alarm clock by feel. She groaned as she pulled herself into a sitting position against the headboard. She had not slept well. 

All night, the only thing she’d been able to see was the look on Chakotay’s face when they’d parted yesterday. She’d started to say “Maybe we should meet for dinner to talk things through,” but then he’d jumped in, saying they should cool things off, and then he’d just driven away. It hurt to realize that he was regretting what they’d done. 

And although she still couldn’t believe she’d actually had sex with him in the stacks — for all her teasing, that certainly wasn’t something she’d ever personally indulged in before — she thought she was coming to like this new, bolder Kathryn. He’d said he did too, but then he’d said …

She shook her head. He was still in Maplebrook to research his book. When he came by the library next, hopefully today, she could let him know what she’d meant to say, and maybe they could work things out.

That didn’t solve the Tom issue. She'd barely been able to look him in the eye since yesterday afternoon. She sent him on several pointless errands to various far corners of the library, but she was running out of ways to keep him away from her.

Kathryn couldn’t stop watching the door either. That last conversation with Chakotay had been so awful, and all she wanted was for him to walk back in so they could talk. 

The door didn’t open.

Chakotay did not appear.

She finally locked up at six and went back to her suite to eat the only thing that was always stocked up in her freezer: coffee ice cream. At least Ben and Jerry made her feel a little better. Chakotay was probably taking some time, cooling off like he’d said. He’d be back tomorrow and they could talk, she told herself as she got into bed. She could explain what she’d meant to say, and they could get back to …

Her nipples tightened as she remembered the expert way his tongue had run along her folds, slipped inside her. The feel of him as he’d thrust into her with such purpose, such attention to a rhythm that brought her satisfaction over and over.

A moan escaped her, and she bit her lip, not wanting Tom to hear her. Again. Her legs moved restlessly across the sheets, and Kathryn slipped her palm beneath the covers, sliding the silky fabric of her pink nightie up and baring herself.

Her hands weren’t as big as his, weren’t as warm as his. But if she kept her eyes closed and imagined, it almost felt like he was there with her. 

Fingers ran lightly through her curls, picking up wetness as they trailed down along her slit. Her pussy was hot, swollen, and she had to bite back another noise as a fingertip brushed sensitive nerves. 

Her other hand reached up to massage her breast, rolling the taut nipple between her fingers and pinching hard enough to hurt. The pleasure of that pain went straight to her core. Her fingers spasmed, and she dipped them inside, just enough to stretch her entrance. She added another finger, remembering Chakotay’s size, her thumb making rhythmic circles at her clit. 

Kathryn’s breath hitched, and she felt her body tighten in anticipation. She turned her head into the pillow to muffle her cries, and she jerked as each wave hit her. She fell asleep with her nightgown still crumpled up around her waist, the syllables of his name on her lips.

In the morning, she dressed with special care, sure that today would be their reunion.

When Chakotay hadn’t arrived by ten-thirty, Tom escaped her increasingly agitated mood with a promise of coffee. Kathryn finished shelving the Wildman collection in its new spot. She dusted the display cases. She fielded a call from a very stuffy sounding woman from Yale.

The door opened. Tom entered carrying two large cups and wearing a sober expression.

“Want a coffee, Kathryn?”

“Tom, what’s wrong?”

“Come on, let’s have a seat and take a break.”

“Tom.” Her voice was harsh.

“I ran into Neil at the coffee shop. You know, the guy that runs the B&B down the road?”

The place Chakotay had been staying. She felt herself begin to freeze. She stared at Tom, waiting for him to continue.

Tom couldn’t look at her. “He happened to mention that he unexpectedly had no guests this weekend, so he was thinking of going fishing.”

Kathryn felt her fingernails digging into her palms. She could almost smell the metallic tang of blood. The last time she’d seen blood ...

“I see.” 

“Maybe he just moved to a new hotel,” Tom said. “Neil does talk a lot. Or maybe he had to go home for something, but he’ll be back.”

“Tom,” she said. 

“Maybe —”

“Tom.” She couldn’t say anything else because her throat was tight, the constriction snaking inside of her, cutting off her hope. 

She refused to cry. They sat side by side in silence for a long time.

“I think I’m going to take the day off,” she said, and she was proud of how normal she sounded. “I’m sure you can handle things here without me. You’re very good at your job.”

“Kathryn —” 

“Please. Don’t,” she said and walked away. 

Kathryn spent the rest of the day in her room, staring out the window. She had no sense of the passage of time. She thought she heard a soft knock on her door at some point, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer it.

She wasn’t really surprised Chakotay had left. She’d had time to think back on exactly what she’d said, and realized that in his place, she’d have made the same assumption he did. How could he know she’d meant that she liked not recognizing the old Kathryn in her impulsive actions? That her life was changing for the better, not worse, and a big part of that was because of him? Because honestly, they barely knew each other. It might have felt like they’d shared an instant connection, but did that actually happen anywhere but in books? It was foolish of her to have allowed herself to think so.

Another day passed, then a week, then two. Kathryn filled her days with work. Tom insisted on taking her to see the fireworks at the county fair. They bought cotton candy and funnel cake and very strong tequila-infused gelato. Lying back on the blanket, watching the bursts of white and green and gold, Kathryn replayed that afternoon in the stacks again, and decided she was going to call Chakotay tomorrow. They’d had a miscommunication, but they could still clear things up. She was ready to spark again. 

Following through on her promise was a little harder once the tequila left her system. She picked up her cell phone and set it aside several times. It wasn’t until early in the afternoon, when Tom was on his lunch break, that she finally punched in Chakotay’s number — burned into her memory from looking at it in the register all morning — and waited to hear the ringing.

“Chakotay’s phone.” A woman’s voice sounded abruptly down the line.

Kathryn’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh. Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” the woman responded.

Kathryn couldn’t speak. That he had already … so quickly …

“Can I help you?” the voice said, a note of impatience now. 

“Is Chakotay available?” Kathryn managed.

“He’s busy tonight. Can I take a message?”

Kathryn’s chest and face were flushed in embarrassment. “No, no. I’m sorry. No message.”

She ended the call. 

* * *

“Anything fun happen while I was gone?” Chakotay asked when he finally got back to the hotel.

“Just another weird call from one of your fans, hoping to speak to the author himself,” B’Elanna said.

“Ah,” he said. He was exhausted. This was their tenth city since landing in Frankfurt a little over two weeks ago. His voice was hoarse from reading, and his face hurt from pretending to smile so much. He’d just gotten back from dinner. It had lasted for hours, and there had been hardly anything he could eat. Apparently, Cavit was a real meat and potatoes kind of guy, because all the reservations were for steakhouses and seafood restaurants that catered to the American palate. 

“I’m going to order some room service,” he told B’Elanna. “Want anything?”

“I’d love some live, wiggling worms,” she told him.

“Okay.”

He felt the phone being taken from his hand. “Chakotay. Take a shower. Go to bed.”

“Okay.”

The warm water revived him. His conversation with B’Elanna pierced the fog of his fatigue, and he chuckled at her food order, then sobered again when he thought about the call that wasn’t from Kathryn. 

He missed her, every day. He didn’t care if they’d only known each other a few days. The sense of peace he'd felt in her presence, the way her mind worked, the way she looked in those silk blouses and pencil skirts …

He felt his body responding to the course of his mental wanderings, and he straightened. He pictured the way she’d looked that last day, her silk blouse open, barely covering her naked breasts. The thrill he’d felt to discover she’d not been wearing a bra coursed through him again, and his hand drifted down his stomach. 

Chakotay ducked his head into the pulse of water, leaning his left forearm against the wall of the shower. The water soothed his neck, running in rivulets down his back and chest, splashing off his hand and cock as he stroked himself. His fist was tight, his movements firm. He could feel his balls drawing up, and he slipped his hand down to squeeze and pull. 

He remembered the rasp of his calloused hands across the softness of her stockings, how he’d run the tip of his finger inside the top hem before tracing along the suspender to her dripping folds. In his imagination, it was her he was thrusting into, not his hand; it was her accepting him deeper and deeper inside. His hips shuddered forward in the same urgent rhythm he’d used with her, and he thought his fist against the shower wall might crack a tile.

He came with a hoarse cry, wishing more desperately than ever that he wasn’t alone.

In the morning, B’Elanna had breakfast delivered to their en suite dining area. Like every European breakfast he’d had so far, it looked delicious: fresh bread, local cheese and preserves, fruit, muesli, and hot tea. 

“We have a free day today,” she said.

“I know.” It was the only thing that had gotten him through that interminable dinner last night.

“Go to a damn library.”

“What?”

“That’s all you’re thinking about anyway, so just … get out of the hotel. Go see a library. Get it out of your system.”

“I don’t really want to get her out of my system,” he responded, and he could feel his temper rising.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re wallowing, and you’re miserable to be around. Find a way to channel what you’re feeling. Otherwise you won’t be worth anything by the time you can go back to her.”

He cocked his head and looked over at his old friend. “What did I do to deserve you, again?” he asked.

“Oh please. I’m way too good for you,” she said with a grin. 

Chakotay took her advice. In every city they visited from then on, whenever he had a little free time, he found a local library. He’d take a tour if he could or wander through the stacks for a bit. He saw grand, regal libraries and humble village libraries, university collections and collections of music, and costumes, and law. And at each library, he found a souvenir, something quirky to remind him of his time there. They were tucked away in a safe corner of his suitcase, waiting for the day when, he hoped, he could share them with the woman he knew would appreciate them most.

* * *

It had been more than six weeks since she’d last seen Chakotay. After that disastrous phone call, Kathryn had decided to cut her losses for real this time. 

She’d heard nothing from him. 

On the one hand, she couldn’t really blame him for not calling. She’d never given him her cell number, and he would certainly have considered the office phone off limits after her outburst. 

On the other hand, it hurt that he’d just disappeared without a word. She’d thought they might both take a little time, lick their wounds, process what had happened, and then be able to move forward together. But he seemed to have decided that their last conversation was final.

Her relationship with Justin, she reflected, had gradually degraded over time until there was nothing left of their original connection except memories. With Chakotay, they’d never had the chance to build up much of anything to start with.

But she was doing a damn good job of moving on, if she did say so herself. She and Tom continued to make excellent progress at the library; he was officially staying on as her assistant after the summer, and he’d even started applying to online library programs. He’d introduced her to Sandrine’s, a smoky dive bar that made good pizza and had a pool table buried in the basement. They were thinking of going to a beach luau for Labor Day.

At the counter beside her, Tom suddenly stopped humming.

“Tom, what’s up?” she asked. He was so rarely at a loss for words — or noise.

He was staring down at a book he'd pulled out of its wrapping. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was opening the mail, and I think the packages for the house got mixed in with stuff today.” He hesitated another moment, then held a slim paperback out to her. “I think this one was for you.”

She took the volume from him, turning the cover to face her. It was a copy of Chakotay’s out-of-print third book, _Unforgetting_. She’d come across a used copy online after that first day he’d visited, and it had finally made its way here.

“Ah,” she said and set the book down on the counter. “If you’d like to read it, go ahead. I’ve got several other books going right now.”

She turned back to her work. A hand lightly gripped her elbow.

“Are you sure you don’t want to read it first?” Tom asked. 

“It’s fine, Tom,” she snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

“I don’t really think it is,” he said. 

And suddenly, everything she thought she had tucked away so carefully came rushing back to the surface. She gasped, her hands curling around her waist, her spine bowing her down. 

“Hey, hey, sit down,” Tom said, urging her into the desk chair beside him. 

She finally managed to whisper, “Thanks.”

Tom took a deep breath. “Kathryn, I’m going to say something, and you’re probably not going to like it, but I’m going to say it anyway, okay?”

Kathryn nodded. Tom had been quite endearingly considerate of her unwillingness to talk about Chakotay, but this had been a long time coming, so she might as well let it happen.

He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the dirty blond locks. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen. There were years when I didn’t look at anything else if you were in the room. So when I say I’ve never seen you like this, I know what I’m talking about.” 

Kathryn looked up at him, surprised that he’d acknowledged it, even more surprised that his feelings had apparently been more serious than she’d ever realized. 

Tom waved a hand at her. “It’s cool. It’s just kind of nice now, you know? Not something I’d ever act on or anything.” His grin turned sly. “And it’s not like I was saving myself for you or anything.”

She laughed, maybe the first time she’d really laughed in weeks.

“And I’m a guy, obviously,” Tom continued. “So when I say Chakotay was into you, I know what I’m talking about there too.”

The smile slipped from her lips.

“I don’t really know what happened, and if he walked in here today I’d probably throw a punch at him, even though I know he could take me with one hand behind his back …”

Kathryn rolled her eyes at him, but she leaned into his shoulder. “Thanks, Tom.”

“No prob, Kitchy Koo. But the point is this: I think you should call him.”

Kathryn bowed her head. “I did call him. A couple weeks ago. A woman answered.”

“Did you leave a message?”

“No.”

“Well, for all you know, that was his housekeeper. Or his sister. Or, I don’t know. Anybody.” Tom picked up _Unforgetting_ from the desk and laid it in her hands. “Read the book. And then give him another call.”

* * *

Chakotay looked up from the table, trying to count how many people still stood in line. This was the last event of his tour — he and B’Elanna were flying home tomorrow, at last — and he needed to keep it together long enough to sign thirteen ... no, fourteen more books.

A nervous young woman with dark hair and a shy smile stepped up to him, holding out a copy of his book.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he told her with the same smile he’d plastered on his face countless times over the past six weeks. “And what’s your name?”

“Tal Celes,” she responded. “T - A - L. C - E - L - E - S.” She twisted her hands together, and he thought for a second she might faint. 

He leaned toward her a bit. “Names that start with C are my favorite,” he whispered, trying to put her at her ease.

She smiled, and Chakotay bent down to sign her book. His mind went completely blank, and he could not remember the name she had just given him. Oh, he was tired. He tried again, but her name was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back into her eyes. “Could you spell that for me again?”

“Oh. Of course.” There was embarrassment in her voice. “I’m sorry. I probably didn’t say it loud enough. It’s a hard name too. But it’s —” 

Chakotay reached out and very quickly touched her arm. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been going non-stop for six weeks now, and you were here at the unfortunate moment when my brain decided to shut down. It’s my fault, not yours.”

She gaped at him, as if she genuinely believed every mistake was only ever hers. He gave her another smile, a real one, and she beamed back, quickly spelling her name again.

“Thank you, Tal. I hope you enjoy the book.”

“I will,” she said confidently.

The rest of the signing passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he and B’Elanna were boarding their flight back to New York.

“You did it,” B’Elanna said quietly.

“We did it. Thank you. For everything. You’re the best agent and friend a guy can have.”

“And don’t you forget it,” B’Elanna laughed. After a minute, she said, “So, how soon are you going back up to Maplebrook?”

“As soon as we land,” he told her.

“What? Chakotay, no,” she protested. “You’re exhausted. You’ve been going non-stop for weeks, and you know you can’t sleep on flights. This is a bad idea. Go home, unpack, wait a couple days, then go.”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said quietly.

She turned in her seat and looked at him for a long moment. “Fine. But I’m driving you. And we’re stopping by your place so you can shower.”

Chakotay had known B’Elanna for enough years to know when her mind was made up. He nodded. “Thanks, Lanna.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out your book so I can sleep.”

After the ritual of customs, he and B’Elanna descended on his apartment long enough to shower, grab some coffee for the road, and toss their bags into the back of his Jeep.

Chakotay could feel his anxiety grow the closer they got to Maplebrook. Would Kathryn be happy to see him after weeks of radio silence? No matter how much time she’d wanted to catch her breath after those intense few days, he couldn’t imagine she’d meant this long.

They pulled off the highway. He directed B’Elanna straight to the library, and was out of the car before she’d finished turning off the engine.

“Dude, dude. Slow down,” she called.

“Hurry up,” he called back with a nervous grin. 

Chakotay swung the door to the library open, and ushered B’Elanna inside.

He watched Tom straighten up very quickly at a counter, and heard him quietly murmur “Oh shit” as he did so. 

“Hi Tom,” he said softly. “Is Kathryn around?” 

The younger man’s eyes flickered from him to B’Elanna and back.

“This is my agent — and friend — B’Elanna Torres. She kept me company on the drive up.”

The man brightened immediately. “Oh! Okay. Hey B’Elanna, I’m Tom.”

“Focus for two seconds, Tom,” B’Elanna said. “Is your boss around?”

Tom’s eyes were riveted on her, and Chakotay could have sworn he saw actual hearts rising from the man’s head as he gazed at B'Elanna. 

B’Elanna put a hand on her hip and stared at Tom impatiently.

"It’s her day off,” Tom said quickly. “She’s gone down to the coffee shop — Nebula Coffee, you remember, Chakotay? — she’s doing some reading today.” He glanced back at Chakotay and added, “I think it’d be okay if you interrupted, though.”

B’Elanna turned to him. “Let’s get going.”

“Actually,” Tom interjected, “why don’t you stay here, B’Elanna? I can give you a tour.”

She gave him a doubtful look but also took the very obvious hint. “Sounds great,” she said with an exaggerated smile.

“Thanks, Tom, Lanna,” Chakotay said. “I’ll just … swing downtown and meet you back here later.”

All the anxiety, all the longing he’d felt over the past six weeks returned on the short drive, leaving him feeling like he had a rock in the pit of his stomach. Chakotay took a breath and opened the door of the coffee shop.


	6. Chapter 6

Kathryn reached absently for her cup and sipped without looking, grimacing as cold coffee filled her mouth. It seemed like she’d ordered it barely five minutes ago, but it could have been five hours for all she knew. Time seemed to get sucked into a vortex when she was reading the book Chakotay had written.

She couldn’t understand why _Unforgetting_ had received such a lukewarm reception. Sure, the plot was complicated, but the protagonist’s heartache was palpable. Unable to be with his best friend, whom he loved quietly from afar, he’d let himself be swept into a romance with a mysterious stranger with the power to make him forget everything else, including the stranger herself when she eventually moved on. But he’d kept a diary of their romance, and so had the woman he loved. Kathryn wiped tears from under her eyes as she read the final few pages of the book, in which the hero’s heart broke as his best friend explained that she loved him too, but she had to let him be free to fall in love with someone else.

It was tragic in the most beautiful way, and Kathryn wished she could go back and read it from the beginning again for the first time.

She laid the book on the table and turned to gaze out of the coffee shop window, tucking her legs up and wrapping her arms around her calves. The big maple outside was turning brilliant shades of auburn and copper and red, and the sleepy little town was starting to empty out as its summer inhabitants headed back to their regular lives.

She’d been thinking about that herself. They still hadn’t permanently filled her old job at NYPL, and yesterday the library administrator had asked her if she’d come back.

Kathryn sighed. Moving back to the city was the right thing to do for the sake of her career, and with Tom fully trained and starting library school in September, she wouldn’t really be needed at the Paris Library for much longer. She just didn’t know if she was ready to close the chapter on her summer in Maplebrook. 

She rested her cheek on her denimed knees. Her hair, unbound for once, slid over one shoulder to tickle her cheek, and Kathryn brushed it back as she reached for her tote bag. Maybe she had another of Chakotay’s beautiful novels stashed away inside —

A movement caught the corner of her eye. Someone was standing beside her table.

“ _Unforgetting_ ,” said a masculine voice — a warm, familiar, slightly shaky voice. “Unusual choice.”

Kathryn’s heart began to pound as his words transported her back in memory to their very first meeting.

“I like the way the author writes,” she managed through a suddenly tight throat, staring unseeingly at the table top in front of her.

The man beside her swallowed audibly. “What do you like about it?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to look up at him. “That I didn’t want it to end.”

And then Chakotay crouched beside her chair, reached for her hand, and said, “I never wanted it to end either, Kathryn. Do you think we could start again?”

* * *

Chakotay waited for Kathryn’s answer. Her slender hand tightened around his, and he started to breathe again. 

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak there was a clatter of dishes, and they both jumped, remembering they were in a very public place.

Kathryn gave him a small smile. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I could use the chance to stretch my legs.”

“It’s a long drive up here,” she said as they exited the coffee shop. They began walking away from the center of town, toward the woods where Chakotay had gone running his last morning in Maplebrook. 

“That and I was on a plane all night,” he said ruefully. “Economy class.”

She looked at him curiously. 

The small talk was over. 

He inhaled and reached for her hand again, twining their fingers together loosely; she didn’t pull away. He’d gone over and over this conversation in his head, trying to think of the best way to explain what had happened. They walked in silence a little longer so he could gather his thoughts one last time, and then he started.

"Remember that deal I offered Federation, so I could keep writing my book?"

She thought for a minute. “And so you could find a new publisher."

"Yeah. Well, they took me up on it. And they made me go on a six week European book tour so they could wring every last bit of their money's worth out of me first.”

She came to a sudden stop. “You’ve been in Europe this whole time?” At his nod, she said, “Well, that’s one possibility that never crossed my mind.”

He closed his eyes briefly, the implied pain of that statement quite apparent. Kathryn pulled them back into movement.

“I didn’t have any warning. I got the call early, the morning after …” his words faltered. She gave a curt nod, and he rushed to continue, “the morning I was going to come see you.” Her fingers tightened around his, and he ran his thumb along her wrist. “But I had to leave right away. It wasn’t until later I realized I didn’t have your cell number, and …” 

“And I’d made such a fuss about being unprofessional, you didn’t want to call the library,” she guessed.

They’d reached the woods, and Chakotay pulled her under the shade of the trees.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it — about you — since that day,” he confessed. “But you’ve probably been thinking I’m the kind of guy who pounces on beautiful women and then just takes off.”

She glanced away, but he could see the hint of a smile on her lips. “I didn’t mind the pouncing.”

His heart leapt, but he needed to say this. “Kathryn, I’m sorry I embarrassed you at your place of work.” 

She shook her head urgently, reaching out to place the palm of her hand on his chest. “No, I’m sorry. I freaked out, but it wasn’t about that. Not really.”

A ray of sun bounced through the leaves, scattering gold across her chestnut hair. He’d imagined running his fingers through that hair many times over the past month and a half. Carefully, he reached up, brushing a strand away from her face — it was as soft as he’d dreamt it would be — and let his hand rest on her cheek. 

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said impulsively. “Let’s start things off right this time.”

“Okay.”

A smile broke across Kathryn’s face, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning back.

He’d just opened his mouth to ask where they should go when his cell phone buzzed. It was a message from B’Elanna.

“We’re guessing since you’re not back by now that things are okay,” it read. “Tom’s taking me to an all-night B-movie film fest downtown. Proton something. I don’t know. Who even am I anymore??? See you … whenever.” This was followed by a series of increasingly suggestive emoji.

He chuckled and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Looks like Tom’s got plans for the night,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose and he explained on the drive back to the Paris house, where Kathryn changed quickly into a button-front dress and Chakotay splashed water on his face, determined to ignore the pull of his jetlag.

They talked more at dinner, clearing the air, but mostly they talked about what life had been like otherwise since they’d seen each other. She told him about a picture she’d found of a woman with his tattoo over her left eye, and how she’d kicked Tom’s ass at skeeball at the fair; Chakotay told her about the reading at which a man had been so loud in his side remarks to his companion that the shop owner had finally had to ask them to leave.

Over dessert, he pulled out the small parcel he’d grabbed from his bag while they were changing for dinner. 

He watched Kathryn’s face as she ran a gentle finger over a hand-carved magnet from the University of Graz library, smiled indulgently at a bookmark from Porto which had obviously been cut out by hand, eagerly read the back cover blurb on a space law treatise from the Peace Palace Library. 

She didn’t look up at him for a long time, and he was worried that he’d revealed too much through his little gifts. Then her eyes met his, and they were dark, such a deep blue, and her evident desire stole his breath away. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she husked, carefully sliding the items into her purse. 

They were halfway back to his car, hands tightly clasped, almost running, when she shoved him down a side alley and pushed him against the wall. 

“This works too,” she said breathlessly. Her hands were already at his belt, unbuckling it. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he growled.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” she ordered, grabbing his wallet with one hand while trying to shove his pants down with the other. 

His hands came up to still hers, just for a second. “You take care of the condom, I’ll take care of us.” 

He turned her so that her back was to the wall. Heat flushed across her chest; he bent to suck at the hollow of her throat. Then he bit her sharply before pulling back to ruck down his pants and shorts. 

Kathryn was breathing heavily, her fingers trying to tear at the packet. He heard it rustle as he gathered her dress up around her waist. Red silk barely covered her mound. “I’ll buy you another pair,” he promised, tearing the thin straps and tucking the scrap into his pocket.

“You’re starting quite a collection,” she purred.

His tongue dipped into the shell of her ear, running along the curve. “If only I knew a librarian,” he whispered, nipping at her lobe.

She pushed him far enough away to see between them. Then her cool hand was running down his cock, rolling the condom onto him. She ran a finger along his balls, then wrapped her fist around him, pumping him once, twice. “Enough sweet talk.”

Chakotay’s hands grasped her waist, sliding around her, and lifted her against the wall. Her arms went around his neck, her legs around his hips. Kathryn’s petite body twisted, and she sank down on him. She gasped, and he took her mouth roughly, swallowing her moans. 

Her tongue slid along his. He could feel her lips stretch into a fierce smile. 

“You really do like it, thinking that someone might catch us,” he rasped. 

“Apparently,” she whimpered. “And I’m not letting you shush me this time.” 

His hands cupped her buttocks to protect her from the bricks. He pressed his hips up into hers. 

Kathryn let out a throaty moan, “Fuck me, Chakotay. Harder. Please.” 

Her blatant plea set him on fire. His hips drove into her. He could feel the skin of his knuckles being rubbed raw, and he just thrust harder. They were frantic for each other, grasping and biting, straining to meld themselves as close as possible after too much time apart. Then he felt Kathryn begin to clench around him. He was close, but he wanted to feel her come. He held her as she jerked against him, and he let go too.

The next thing he was aware of was Kathryn chuckling against his neck. They were sweaty and both breathing hard.

"Hey, did you know people do this kind of thing in beds too?" he heard her say.

“Is that an invitation?” How was he forming words right now, let alone sentences?

She lifted her head, her arms still around his neck, and said, “I’m merely pointing out that I haven’t gotten to see the rest of your tattoos yet.”

* * *

Chakotay pulled the Jeep into the driveway behind the Paris house, and Kathryn led him inside and up the carpeted stairs to the second floor.

“So this is where you live,” he whispered.

“That’s my room,” she answered in hushed tones, pointing, and then she stopped and said in a normal voice, “Why are we whispering? Tom’s out all night, and there’s nobody here but us.”

Chakotay’s eyebrows rose. “So we can be as loud as we like,” he rumbled, pulling her into his arms and crowding her up against the wall.

“Not that I was particularly quiet in the alley back there,” Kathryn parried. He bent to kiss her, but she put her hands on his chest to hold him off. “Uh-uh, Mr. Chakotay. This time we are definitely doing this horizontally.”

“Then you’d better take me to bed, Ms. Janeway, because I don’t think I can wait any longer to have you completely naked and at my mercy.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’ll be the one in command,” she said airily, turning to push open the door to her suite.

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

She locked the door, then took his hand to lead him over to the big white bed in the center of the room. At his involuntary flinch her eyes sharpened.

Looking down at his hand, she saw that his knuckles were grazed raw.

“The wall,” she exclaimed. “Oh Chakotay, I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Come with me.”

Moments later he was leaning against the counter in her bathroom while Kathryn stood between his legs, gently cleaning the cuts on his knuckles.

“This brings back memories,” she said, her head still bowed to hide her smile.

“The kind of memories that got me through six long, lonely weeks in Europe.”

She felt him shift so that his thigh was pressed between hers, and she leaned against it.

“Did you touch yourself when you were thinking about me, Chakotay?” she purred, her thumb stroking his palm to feel him shiver. “Were you imagining you were inside me?”

“Frequently.” His voice was rough.

Kathryn bent to take his fingertip between her teeth, then curled her tongue around it. “Did you imagine me sucking your cock?”

His answer was a soft groan, and she felt his cock swell against her hip. She sucked his finger into her mouth and flicked her eyes up at him; he was staring at her, his lips parted and a pulse beating visibly in his throat. She tried not to smile. With her free hand she unbuttoned her dress until it fell open, baring her to him.

She leaned up, pressing her body against his and whispered in his ear, “Would you like me to suck your cock, Chakotay?”

His answer was a strangled groan as he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her into his arms. “Later,” he growled, and then, with her arms and legs wrapped around him, he strode out of the bathroom and directly to her bed.

Kathryn gasped in delight as she landed on her back, Chakotay falling half on top of her and catching his weight on his elbows. Then his hand was on her breast and his mouth seeking the curve of her throat, and she pushed her hands between them in her haste to feel his bare skin against hers from top to toe.

Hands knocked and tangled as they tugged at each other’s clothing until finally they were both naked. Kathryn wrapped her arms around him and spread her legs, wriggling wantonly in her urgency to pull him inside her.

“Kathryn.” Chakotay pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes. “I have to get a condom.”

She stilled and bit her lip. “I guess this is where we have the talk, isn’t it?”

“The talk?”

“You know.” She reached up to trace her fingers along the line of his jaw, smiling as he turned his face into her palm. “Have you been tested, have you been with anyone else lately,” she paused, “are we exclusive now …”

He smiled. “I’ve been tested, and I’m clear. I haven’t been with anyone but you. And,” he kissed her palm, “I only want you, and I can’t imagine that ever changing.”

Kathryn blinked sudden tears from her eyes. “Ditto,” she managed. “And I’m on birth control, so …”

“No condom?”

“No condom,” she agreed, wriggling again, and enjoying the way he sucked air sharply and closed his eyes.

“Do that again and I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he half-joked, then bent to kiss her softly, slowly. Easing back, he said, “I know it’s crazy, and incredibly fast, but I can’t imagine my life without you, Kathryn.”

“And you make me feel like I’ve come home.” She let her hand slide down to rest against his heart. “Are you with me?”

“Always,” he answered, sliding inside her, both of them sighing with delight and relief that nothing stood between them at last.


End file.
